The Ivy Cottage Inn

Chapter One: John and Ittia

John murmured, and his eyes opened. He looked at the window, and saw the sun shining through. John stretched, and- wait a minute! The sun shouldn't be up! He got up at dawn, to get things ready for- THE GUESTS!

Oh, good God, what had he done! He had completely forgotten to have somebody waken him. By now all the guests would be up and wanting their morning meals, and in some cases, other... assorted objects. John, practically threw on his clothing, and flew down the stairs from the small apartment that he and his grandparents, as innkeepers, shared. John whirled into the kitchen, and began loading up the tray for his first guest on his route, Ittia Thompson, the necromancess. She would have three pears with no skin to make them appear white, an apple with again no skin, for the same reason, and a tall glass of water mixed with leaves of mint. Thomas grabbed the tray and hurried out, and then stopped. He back-tracked, and grabbed the hook from the wall. He usually need it at this time in the morning.

He raced up the stairs that led to the guest corridors, and stopped at the first room. It had a silver number on it, in this case, one. But that was the only thing that it had in common with the other doors at the Ivy Cottage Inn. For because of a small spell that imbued in each door, after a guest stayed there for more than two weeks, the door shifted to match the guests' personality. In this case, the door for Ittia was made of white birch wood. John took a deep breath to calm himself, and then knocked professionally on the door. He counted to three, and then turn the doorknob and let himself in.

Ittia was in the normal position that she usually was in the mornings. She was sitting cross-legged, with her hands resting on her knees, and her eyes open. She was smiling slightly, and talking. But three things were odd about this. 1) There was no one else in  the room; 2) her eyes were completely white, and were glowing; 3) she was floating in the center of the room, three feet off of her bed, which was placed in the middle of the room to prevent her hurting herself if she fell.

John sighed, and set the tray down on the small side-table next to the bed. Then he reached with the hook, caught her, and pulled her gently down onto the bed.

 As soon as she touched the bed, she gasped, and the white disappeared from her eyes. Then she said, "Happy rooster, John. I ate the egg and the rabbit ran away. I was talking to a lovely young spirit, about thirty-seven, who said that she was buried under this inn about two hundred years ago. Fascinating, isn't it John?" Ittia had a very skinny, bony build, and long, pure white hair. She was of the average height, and had deep lavender eyes.  She had a light, airy voice, and was quite... shall we say, whimsical.

John grunted, and said, "Yes, yes, quite. Will that be all Ittia?"

Ittia laughed, and said, "John, I have told you before, call me It. Yes, that will be all. Bye, don't choke the pink crow!"

John nodded in bemused agreement, and walked out of the room and closed the door. He sighed. Half of what Ittia said made no sense at all, and the other half was telling him to call her 'It', and talking about two-hundred year old spirits. Ittia had been living at the inn for about two months now, and John still wasn't sure whether to be confused about her, or like her.

John's grandmother was an shamaness, basically an animal-witch, who could communicate, shift into, and  control, animals. But inside of the inn, magic was forbidden to be used. There was a converted root cellar behind the inn, and if any of the guests wanted to try and cast spells or whip up some potions, they had to do it in there, so that it was safe. But since necromancy just involved communicating with the spirits of the dead, Ittia could practice it as much as she liked, because there was no way to use it to, in anyway, harm someone. Or, at least, in some other way then confusing them severely.