Hello guys! I'm back with another Agatha Locksley, Ghost Slayer adventure. This time it is in the third person because I have no continuity and no sense of reality. I hope y'all enjoy!

“The ghost has the magic lamp.” Alexander’s eyes shifted toward the cave. “Do you truly think there is something you can do to get it back?”

Agatha Locksley folded her arms and stared down the mouth of the cave. Her daughter was at home, safely stowed away with the nanny. Her husband would be on a business trip for the next six months. That gave her lots of free time for dealing with ghosts.

Unfortunately, the ghosts hadn’t come out. Until now.

“Ma’am.” Alexander was a government official, and it showed in the hurry of his clipped tone. “Can you recover the lamp?”

Agatha flapped a hand. “Of course.” She eyed the utility belt he wore. “Might I borrow that torch of yours?”

Moments later, she was in the depths of the cave, a rope tied to her waist attaching her to the railing at the top. Alexander and his crew had not followed her, but since the rope was many feet long, they’d be able to pull her out if anything happened.

She had not told them that if they were pulling her out, they’d be getting a corpse.

The cave was quite dark, and the electric torch in her hand only illuminated a circle in front of her. She walked at a rapid clip, ignoring all of the gold on each side. Stacks of chests, golden coins, and other treasure glimmered in the faint light. That was not the goal. She had no need for money.

A voice hissed in the darkness.

Agatha did not pause. She held up her torch and walked even more quickly.

The voice drifted past her, moaning the words: “Why have you come here?”

“Let me guess.” She rolled her eyes. This was quite silly. “You will curse me to wander for eternity? Is that it?”

“No. Far worse. You will—”

“Lose all my skin when you shriek because it rots off my bones? You could try being creative.” She hadn’t seen a creative ghost in years.

The ghost moaned again and swooped past her. Now she could see it—a faint mark against the darkness, completely transparent. It didn’t really have a form. That was always fun. It made things just slightly easier.

The only part of the ghost that was not transparent was the lamp dangling from its fingers. The genie’s lamp.

If the ghost rubbed the lamp and summoned the genie, it could become infinitely more powerful. Genies couldn’t bring people back to life, but it could make the ghost corporeal, give it power to actually carry out its threats.

That wasn’t very likely, because a ghost didn’t have fingers, but she’d have to figure out how to get the lamp from it without touching it herself.

She reached to her pocket for the matches.

“You’ll regret coming in here,” whispered the ghost.

Then Agatha heard it: the rattling. The avalanche.

Coins were rolling toward her in every direction, a tidal wave of gold.

Agatha reached into her pocket with an eyeroll. The coins were cascading around her feet. “This is truly the best you can muster?” she yelled.

The ghost appeared before her, still transparent, a smirk on its shadow of a face. “You die here,” it hissed.

The coins were up to Agatha’s knees. Now or never.

She struck the match and hurled it at the ghost.

The ghost went up in flames. They always did. The lamp fell from its hand, but the coins continued their rain.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Agatha seized the lamp and rubbed it. Never mind that she’d been told no one was supposed to do that. There really was no other way out of here.

The genie shot out a moment later, spinning into the sky. It was bigger than most of the ghosts she’d fought, and its tail was attached to the lamp, but that was about all she had to worry about. “WHO HAS AWOKEN ME?” it yelled, its voice filling the cave.

“Me.” Agatha waved the flashlight. “I get three wishes. I know that and I know the conditions. Make these coins stop falling on me. I wish it.”

“WHAT A WASTE OF A WISH.” The genie snapped its fingers and the coins stopped their rapid descent. “WHAT ELSE DO YOU SEEK?”

Agatha eyed the lamp. She didn’t need wealth or fame. She had fame where it mattered. There was only one thing she could use.

“I wish for more ghost-hunting cases.”