Soul Guardian

Light was streaming through the living room window when Bael woke up. He hadn’t meant to doze off in his new recliner but the moans and wails of the ghosts had put him to sleep like a lullaby. He stretched out with a yawn and padded over to the kitchen to attempt to make some breakfast. Thus far all of his attempts had ended in blackened inedible messes but he was sure that eventually he would get it right. Besides, the smoke usually woke up Maharet who actually could cook. So it was really a win-win.

(It was a well accepted strategy of husbands everywhere to make a complete hash of something to ensure that their wives never ever asked them to do it again. If you’ve ever wondered why your significant other can’t seem to load the dishwasher correctly, that may be why. The same tactic applies to grocery shopping.)

He grabbed a frying pan and some canola oil from the pantry. When smoke was rising from the pan he reached for an egg only to find the carton he had set on the counter had vanished. “Alright.” Bael said, losing his patience. It was one thing to try and drive him out with threatening messages, but messing with his breakfast was unacceptable. “You have until the count of three to put my eggs back on the counter or I’m sending your ethereal ass packing. One, two… ah much better.”

The carton of eggs had returned but when he reached over to grab one it skittered away just out of reach. Bael grabbed a salt shaker and flicked off the cap with his thumb, two could play that game. “Hey Casper.” Bael said as he threw the shaker as hard as he could at the countertop. “Catch!”

Salt and glass exploded revealing a rather fat and very confused ghost. The salt had adhered to him like dust settling on a cobweb. Bael grabbed the cast iron frying pan and gave it a swing, the ghost barely had time to look surprised before he caught a face full of hot oil and metal. The oil passed through harmlessly, the iron pan was another matter entirely. There was a dull thunk followed by the ghost keeling over like a freshly felled tree.

“Nobody ruins my breakfast but me.” Bael said savagely. He reached down and grabbed the ethereal interloper by the collar. Humans couldn’t touch or harm ghosts, but Demons had no such limitations. “Now, what is so important that you decided to play keep away with my omelet?”

“The pan… too hot...” Moaned the ghost with a voice like a whisper in a wind tunnel. “Have to… start at a lower heat… use butter instead of oil… let eggs come to room… temperature...” Then with its message delivered the ghost fainted.

A swift slap from Bael woke the ghost up. “Tell me everything you know about cooking eggs.” He demanded. “Explain... as you would a child.”

The ghost looked up in horror. “You can’t be serious. You want me, a world renowned chef… to teach you... how to cook... eggs? Wait, you’re… serious.”

“Oh I’m dead serious.” Bael confirmed. “I’ve been trying to cook a nice breakfast for myself ever since I came here and every single one has ended in disaster. Maharet tried to teach me but she gave up, she said I was unteachable.”

“I’m in hell.” The ghost moaned. “I’ve crossed over… into hell.”

“You’re still in the land of the living I’m afraid. But if you want I can arrange you an express trip to the great beyond.” Bael said with a meaningful glance towards the floor.

The ghost seemed to consider this. He wasn’t ready to go to hell just yet. “What… do you want… to know?” The ghost asked.

***

Apparently a good omelet started with good ingredients and the contents of Bael’s fridge were not up to snuff according to the ghost. Thus with a list in hand Bael trotted down to the local supermarket in search of real butter and something called espelette. He found a place that was nothing like the discount grocer he had shopped at with Six. This was a whole nother creature entirely.

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He flagged down a passing team member. “You.” Bael said. “Where can I find this thing?” He pointed to the last ingredient on his list. In the end it took the collective brainpower of three more team members racking their brains before a passing chef overheard them and butted in.

“It’s a smoked pepper popular in Basque cuisine.” The tattooed and grizzled veteran of a dozen kitchens explained. “It’s a specialty item so they don’t have it, but the spice shop down the street will. What do you need it for?”

“Eggs.” Bael explained happily, lifting his basket for the man to inspect. “I just moved here from out of town and needed to restock the old pantry.”

The chef looked at the specialty cheeses, sour cream and smoked ham in Bael’s basket. The combination looked awfully advanced for the home cook. “Are you a chef too?” He hazarded.

“Quite the opposite.” Bael said. “Honestly I’m not sure what all this is for, I’m just following a recipe that…” He paused, realizing just in time that he couldn’t say that a ghost had given him a shopping list. “... that a friend gave me.” He lied.

“Well, enjoy your omelet.” The chef said with a mock salute. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town.”

Bael watched the chef leave. He seemed helpful enough, but there was something about him that put Bael on edge. Something… familiar.

***

With his ingredients in tow Bael trudged up the hill to his new house. Half way up he was cursing his decision to walk instead of drive but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. The downhill portion had certainly seemed a lot easier. But it would all be worth it once he had his breakfast.

Murphy was gone and the house was empty except for the ghost, who was standing cross armed in the kitchen waiting for his student to return with provisions.

Triumphantly Bael set the bag on the counter and collapsed onto a barstool. “Here you go.” He wheezed. “I got everything you asked for, even the espelette. Now can we please get started? I’m absolutely starving.”

The ghost chef nodded with sagely approval. “Alright, I’m going to cook the first one and you’re going to watch.” He set the oven to 250 degrees Fahrenheit and for some reason stuck two heavy stoneware plates inside. “We’re going to let the oven warm up while we work. That also gives us someplace warm to put the eggs, cheese and ham while they come up to room temp.”

He grated the gruyere and sliced the ham into long thin slivers then left them in a plate on top of the oven. “If we put them into the omelet while they’re cold the eggs will be overcooked by the time the insides warm up enough to be all gooey and delicious.”

Eggs were cracked and whisked together with sea salt and cream. The butter went into a non-stick frying pan on the lowest heat setting to be joined soon after by the cream and egg mixture. “If you just throw the eggs into a hot pan they’ll vulcanize and turn into rubber.” The chef explained. “You have to warm them up gradually. I find it makes them sweeter for some reason. I don’t really know why.”

Magic was worked with a silicone spatula. Cheese, smoked ham and seasonings were added. Then the ghost put the whole omelet in the oven to finish cooking with another handful of cheese on top for good measure..

“I can’t help but notice that you haven’t used the espelette yet.” Bael observed. “I’ll have you know that I had to go to a lot of extra trouble to get that.”

“Patience, my apprentice.” The ghost chef said. He whipped the smoked Basque peppers into the sour cream with a hit of sriracha and threw a dollop of the curiously pink mixture on top of the completed omelet. “Ok, now take a bite and tell me what you think.”

It was a masterpiece of culinary art. The eggs were light and fluffy. The center was just as gooey and delicious as advertised, and the smoke from the ham rolled over the rich and sweet gruyere cheese like caramel over a sundae. But the spiced sour cream was what made the dish.

“Oh that hit the spot.” Bael moaned in satisfaction. “It’s seriously the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I didn’t know food could taste so good.”

“Oh really? I thought you liked my cooking the best.” Maharet called from the doorway. “Maybe you’ll make me one.”

Bael looked around in panic but the ghost chef had disappeared. “It’s really not that good.” Bael lied. “You wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh I insist.” Maharet said with a smile. “After all, if it really is the best thing you’ve ever eaten I would be short changing myself if I didn’t at least try it.”

“Alright… sure….” Beads of sweat were starting to form on Bael’s forehead. If he just followed the ghost’s instructions the end result would probably be edible. At least in theory. “One ham and cheese omelet coming up.” He said weakly.

I’m doomed, Bael thought.

He’s doomed, Maharet agreed.