Ghosts of Averoigne

When she was twelve, Kara watched the apparition of an old woman pass through her classroom. This happened every day for a solid week; same woman, same time, same class. Curiosity eventually overrode caution, and Kara found herself raising her hand… and getting excused to the bathroom, so she could follow her.

The strangely-garbed woman led her through a series of hallways, and then down into a broken and abandoned part of the school. There, hidden beneath an old floorboard, Kara unearthed a whole purse full of gleaming gold coins. A purse she knew was there only because she’d watched the apparition put it there… so many, many years ago.

The district took possession of the coins immediately, leaving Kara with one as a souvenir. But the story made headlines. There was enough of the ten-dollar gold eagles to rebuild the gymnasium, and everyone had called her ‘gold digger’ for the rest of her school career.

Not long after that, she saw Xiomara for the first time.

The old woman looked pretty much the same as she did now, small and frail, her silver-black hair pulled tightly back over her tiny head. She showed up in strange places; at stores in the mall, in seats at the movie theater, even once in the audience during her junior high school play. It was easy to pick her out among the crowds, as she wore an seemingly endless array of bright, multi-colored robes. And always, she’d be looking at her. Staring at Kara intently through her wire-rimmed glasses.

It wasn’t until her sophomore year of high school that Kara actually had the guts to approach her. She walked straight up to the old woman in the parking lot of a convenience store, and asked her what the hell she wanted. And Xiomara had grinned — a full blown smile — before uttering those first four words: “It’s about fucking time.”

It was Xiomara who told Kara all about her gift, and how it was a blessing and not a curse. She explained that her visions were among the most important and wondrous things in the world, and that she shouldn’t ever feel badly about them.

Somehow, she knew everything.

Later on, Kara would realize the old woman picked up on her gold coin story, and had been keeping tabs on her ever since. It was scary at first, but it was nice to finally be believed. Besides, the old woman seemed harmless. Kara had questions about her abilities, and Xiomara had answers. Hell, she was the only one with answers.

They began spending time together, and that’s where Kara learned just how special she was. Xiomara taught Kara how her abilities could be commanded, directed, even somewhat controlled. When the visions occurred, she showed her how to sharpen the details. To enhance and focus on things. It was like owning an expensive amplifier for a long time, and finally having someone show you what all the knobs and dials were for.

“Clairvoyance,” the woman had told her at their second meeting. “The ability to see things as they happened, or as they will happen.”

The old woman studied Kara’s reaction carefully. She remembered shaking her head.

“But I can’t—”

“Your specific ability is retrocognition,” Xiomara had said. “The ability to see the past exactly as it happened. Sort of like watching an old movie — you can watch and listen, but you can’t change what happened.” Her face crossed with a dark expression, but only for a moment. “In that regard, you may have the strongest retrocognitive connection we’ve ever seen. Perhaps in all the history of the Order.”

Kara could remember shaking all over, unable — or rather unwilling — to accept the truth. Part of her screamed that such a thing shouldn’t be possible. But a bigger part of her told her what she already knew; that everything the woman was describing, she’d somehow been experiencing for years.

Xiomara wouldn’t talk about the Hallowed Order, at least not yet. Her foul-mouthed mentor lent her a sympathetic ear, gave her comfort, and dispensed advice. She told Kara not to speak of her abilities, or of herself, to anyone else. Then, after less than a week, she left.

“You’re still a child,” Xiomara had smiled during their last meeting. “But come see me when you’re grown.”

She’d folded something into her hand then, a small token carved from bone or ivory. On one side was an elaborate symbol. On the other, an address — somewhere in upstate New York — scratched into the surface.

It was an address Kara would visit shortly after her eighteen birthday.

Four

It was past two o’clock in the morning when the car finally pulled up to the hotel. Kara opened the door before the driver even rolled to a stop; that’s how eager she was to get away from Logan.

“Shit, that’s a lot of snow.”

Her unwanted companion had a tendency to talk a lot. In fact, he hardly shut up. Kara had tried sleeping on the way up, but being near Logan it was difficult. The only real rest she’d gotten was when he was busy reading the file.

“Any idea when this storm’s supposed to let up?” Logan was asking the driver. The man shrugged as he unloaded their things. Kara grabbed her bag the second it emerged, then forged on through the blowing snow.

For a second she stopped to look up. The hotel Averoigne was an impressive sight, even after well more than a century. Graceful arches and gables jutted forth, flanked by winged balconies and a rounded double entrance. Perched on a cacophony of steeply peaked rooftops, dozens of chimneys poked upward, defying the snow.

This place is old, she thought. Something out of a movie. Hell, it even looked like it was haunted.

“Don’t worry,” Logan remarked snidely. He was standing beside her, struggling with two bags in one

hand and a bunch of equipment in the other. “I got it.”

“Great,” Kara smirked wickedly. “At least you’ll be good for something.”

She stomped through the front doors and into the lobby. Instantly she was impressed. Tall columns stretched to a beautifully-arched ceiling, three stories high. The upper floors were cut out with wrap-around landings, railed off by ornately-carved balusters and polished corner pieces. The lighting up there was poor, though. The second, and especially the third floor, seemed lost in shadows.