Vivien wasn’t so sure about that. Sam’s last words had not faded with time. He didn’t want her to find someone else, because he knew there could be no one else for her. She wasn’t one of the lucky women in her family.
“I still feel him around me,” Vivien said. “I know you never see him, but I feel him sometimes. It’s like a presence watching me from the foot of my bed while I sleep. Or maybe it’s just a wish, not a haunting.”
Vivien looked at the bag on the couch. Inside was her key to seeing Sam again. The book had belonged to Julia.
What if their powers could do more than summon his spirit?
What if they could bring him back?
What if she didn’t have to be one of the unlucky ones?
What if she could regain her true love?
Vivien would never say those thoughts out loud, not even to the two people she trusted most in the world. Lorna had wanted to see her ex-husband to ask why he’d betrayed her. She had wanted to use the book of séances to find answers. They’d successfully contacted Glenn, and Lorna received the closure she needed. Heather was still trying to get the courage to talk to the spirit of her son, but when she was ready, they’d help her do whatever she needed to do.
If they could bring Sam back, what was to say they couldn’t do the same for Heather’s son? Vivien would never mention such a thing for fear it would give Heather false hope, but if she proved it could be done then Heather would know it was possible.
“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this,” Heather said.
“No, I want to séance him tonight. If Sam has changed his mind and wants me to move on, then he can tell me that himself,” Vivien said.
Lorna’s hand was still on Heather as if it was taking her longer to decipher what she was sensing. She slowly let go and reached to smooth down her statically charged hair. “Are you picking up the ghosts’ emotions? Is that what’s new? Is that where all that apprehension you’re feeling is coming from?”
“Some. There are more of them, but many seem to be residual hauntings, unaware of anything around them. The residual spirits are easier to be around, but they’re sad to watch. They just loop short scenes from their lives. It’s either from something they often did, like one of my properties has a maid who hangs laundry on a clothesline for about a minute in the afternoons.” Heather busied herself pulling more food items from the bag and setting them on the coffee table.
“What else?” Vivien prompted.
“It’s not just mundane tasks like the laundry. It can be something that has left an emotional imprint like a man silently shouting from a window at a dilapidated building and banging his hands on the glass that’s no longer there. Those are the hardest to see. I don’t think they died easily.” Heather picked at her taco, bringing torn pieces of the shell to her mouth. “A contractor I work with caught me talking to one. The ghost had been wearing work clothes and appeared completely solid. I thought he was a new guy until he walked through a wall that used to have a doorway. I looked like the crazy lady holding a conversation with herself.”
“I wish there was a way we could know they were around, not that I think seeing them everywhere would be better.” Lorna hugged her arms around herself and glanced over the room. Vivien couldn’t blame her for being apprehensive. Anyone would be on edge after an invisible demon had kicked the crap out of them.
“Thankfully, there are none in here,” Heather assured her. “Just being here with you two, I’m already feeling better.”
“We should eat,” Lorna said. “We’ll need our energy if we’re going to séance Sam tonight.”
Chapter Four
Heather stacked empty wrappers on her plate and handed them to Vivien as they cleaned up their dinner mess. However, several uneaten items were still stacked on the coffee table and in the bag. Vivien left them where they were in case someone wanted to pick at the food later.
After Vivien dropped the trash off in the kitchen, she came back to find Heather had the messenger bag on her lap and was in the process of pulling Julia’s séancing book from within.
The padded cover had been embossed with a circle and included symbols that matched their three rings. Whoever had made the book had taken a lot of time and care on its creation. Julia had safeguarded the book beneath the stage at Warrick theater, where she used to hold séances for the public.
To most people in town, famous Medium Julia Warrick was a colorful page of local history. No one admitted that they believed she could actually speak to the dead. Like many mediums during the spiritualist movement of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, she was thought to be somewhat of a fraud at worst and a kook at best.
The book wasn’t just one of Heather’s family heirlooms. It was important. It was magic. It contained all the secrets Julia had deemed necessary enough to write down for future generations.
“I was reading some of the recipes and looking up ingredients online. I think there are ways to protect ourselves.” Heather opened the cover to the title page that read “Warrick” in calligraphy. The entire book had been written by hand, which made some of the entries harder to read. However, it also added to the secrecy of its contents. Some of the pages had decorative borders along the edges, some whimsical vines, others art deco lines. Julia had been a fan of art deco if the style of the theater was any indication.
Heather turned the thick pages several at a time. The first section was lists of séances that Julia had done in the 1920s and ’30s, which said things like, “December 9, 1928, Fiona O’Leary, six dollars to contact three-year-old daughter Mirabella. Not earthbound,” and, “Jane Benoit, three dollars to contact mother, Josephine. Hateful woman. Ex.,” and, “So-and-so traded a chicken to contact Joe to find out where he hid his mother’s brooch.”
They found out the hard way that Ex. stood for exorcism. It was a clean-up step they’d forgotten to take when contacting Lorna’s dead husband, Glenn. Apparently, certain cranky spirits could bring other demonic figures through the veil with them.
In many ways, the book represented utter sadness. It listed name after name of grieving people trying to find answers from the other side. Vivien didn’t know how Julia had done what she did. Vivien couldn’t imagine absorbing so much grief from those around her.
Heather continued turning the pages. The ring vibrated on Vivien’s finger, sending a small current up her arm. Heather stopped when she found the drawing of a candle.
“Here.” Heather pointed at a candle-making recipe. “I mean, yes, some of my information came from the internet, so we take it with a grain of salt because not everyone agrees on everything, but I think this light blue candle is for amplifying our message to the dead. We were just lighting whatever was around, and I think we have to give the candle intention? I’m still figuring it all out. Then there are these. They are anointed in basil oil. Basil, coconut, garlic, they’re all traditionally used for protection. Blueberries are to help against psychic attacks. I don’t know if we eat them or smell them or what.”
“I vote eat,” Lorna said. “In pie form.”