04.03: Dead Girl

Harry knew there was something up here. He didn’t feel any sense of menace or danger but he was acutely aware that there was something unusual going on.
There were ghosts here of course they were a part of old places that was merely a byproduct of time.
He looked around the deserted street, there was no one around. Time for a chat.
Harry extended his hand. “Lux.” a small sphere of gentle light formed and hovered there. Magic was irresistible to ghosts, it was their cat-nip. Over time all ghosts faded, moved on, to where Harry did not know, ostensibly they were echoes of people, no less real for that but echoes. A little magic was a bit of harmless sustenance for them.
Soon there were three basking in the glow from the werelight, a couple were children, girls, and the third an older person. He greeted them but nothing more, he always waited for them to speak first.
“This is a kindness,” said one of the bedraggled girls, there was a common likeness between them, sisters maybe.
“You are welcome,” he said kindly.
“Are you a shaman of some kind? A witch doctor maybe?” This was the older lady.
“A shaman? Why would you think me a shaman?” Harry asked curiously.
“You are a negro, blackamoor.”
Harry smiled. This was not his first encounter with the inappropriate language of the past. The first time he had been incensed but his mentor had told him not to be upset, now he knew not to take offence.
“No. I am a mage,” he told her.
“You sound English,” this was the smaller of the girls.
“That’s because I am.”
“Why are you here?” the elder of the girls asked.
“I am looking for something, or someone, there’s something special around here. Like you but different. Yes, special.” Harry noted the youngest of the ghosts turn and look at one of the houses a little way up the street. It was more than just a glance.
He took a few paces in that direction. “I mean no harm to any here, living or dead.”