Poltergeists & Change of Life (Mystical Midlife in Maine #15)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

I stared at the ominous crack in the basement floor. My expression was a masterpiece of exasperated disbelief that would have made Edvard Munch's "The Scream" look positively cheery in comparison. "I'd say that classifies as a deadly interaction," I muttered. "I hope it leads straight to Lyra's Discount Realm of Horrors. I hear they're having a sale on eternal torment and slightly used souls. Maybe we can pick up some souvenirs. 'My family went to a witch's pocket dimension and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

My delightful mother-in-law and unexpected fertility guru, rolled her eyes with all the subtlety of a disco ball in a monastery. Her divine aura made the dank basement feel like a disco ball had mated with a lighthouse. This was about as pleasant as it sounds and twice as disorienting. "Your wit never ceases to amaze me, Phoebe," Persephone informed me. Her tone suggested she'd rather be anywhere else but with us. She was sticking around solely for the sake of her unborn grandchildren. And perhaps to witness whatever spectacular disaster was sure to unfold. "Perhaps we could focus on the potentially world-ending crack in your floor rather than your stand-up routine? Unless, of course, you plan to defeat Lyra's traps and minions with the sheer power of your sarcasm. In which case, by all means, continue. I'm sure the Tainted witches will be suitably impressed."

Ignoring us, Stella crouched next to the fissure. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but her eyes sparkled with her characteristic mix of curiosity and excitement. It made me seriously question her self-preservation instincts. "Smells like a committee meeting of demons with poor personal hygiene down there. With a hint of... is that residual spirit energy? Looks like this will lead to Lyra's spirit-binding realm. That won't be so bad." I loved her optimism. It made the shit we got into seem a little more manageable.

The sound of my snort echoed in the dank basement like the world's most sarcastic foghorn. "Your optimism is truly inspiring, Stella. Remind me to nominate you for motivational speaker of the year. You could title your conference: 'Turn that frown upside down, even when facing malevolent witches and deadly magical traps!' You'll be a hit. We can print brochures. They'll fly off the shelves faster than holy water at a vampire convention."

My divine mate pushed through the door at the top of the stairs before Stella could respond. He and Nana descended to join us. "What happened? I thought the house was going to come down on you," Aidon growled as his eyes moved over me and then to the crack like it had personally offended him, his entire godly lineage, and possibly kicked his puppy for good measure. "What is that? It smells like brimstone... maybe. It can't possibly be a normal portal to hell, though. We're too close to the Hellmouth for that to happen."

I patted his arm consolingly, trying not to laugh at his scowl. "I'd already surmised that. We think it goes to a hidden realm Lyra created to bind Hattie's spirit to the amulet and turn her into a poltergeist."

Before Aidon could respond with what was sure to be a truly epic eye-roll capable of reversing the Earth's rotation, Nana's voice cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter. Assuming the butter was made of sarcasm and the knife was forged from pure, unadulterated sass. "Sounds like we've got ourselves a magical rabbit hole," she observed. She pushed past us with the determination of someone who'd seen it all, was thoroughly unimpressed, and was seriously considering writing a strongly worded letter to the management of the universe. "It's just a portal to a witch's pocket dimension, not the end of the world. Though knowing this family, that's probably next on the agenda. Right after 'pick up dry cleaning' and 'avert apocalypse’. Now, are we going to stand around yapping like a bunch of Chihuahuas at a mailman convention? Or are we going to explore this thing? I haven't got all day, you know. There's a bridge game at four, and I intend to fleece those blue-haired biddies for all they're worth."

Nana hadn’t played bridge since we’d gotten our magic almost a year ago. However, she lived for winning and that used to be a regular part of her day. Part of me wished she was serious and had plans to go to the Senior Center later. That would mean her entire life hadn’t been upended because of what I’d gotten us into.

"You want to go down there? Into the creepy, definitely Lyra-infested realm with us? Nana, I know retirement can be boring," I began, "but there are safer hobbies. Have you considered knitting? Or maybe extreme ironing? I hear it's all the rage among the adrenaline-junkie septuagenarian crowd."

Nana fixed me with a look that could have peeled paint, curdled milk, and possibly caused small woodland creatures to spontaneously combust. "Listen here, missy. I've been dealing with supernatural nonsense for almost a year now. I'm more capable than practically the entire coven here. In fact, most think I've had my magic since long before you were a twinkle in your mother's eye. A little pocket dimension isn't going to scare me. I've seen scarier things in my bridge club's potluck casseroles. Now, are you coming? Or do I need to get my walker and do this myself?"

With a sigh that contained multitudes and probably a few undiscovered subatomic particles, I started towards the crack. It was that or let Nana have all the fun. I'd never hear the end of it if I chickened out now. "I'm coming. But if we get trapped by Lyra's magic or ambushed by her Tainted witch minions, I'm blaming you in the afterlife." As we descended into the unknown, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, a normal life was overrated. After all, who needs Netflix when you've got real-life episodes of "Keeping Up with the Dieudonne: Pocket Dimension Adventure" to live through?

The moment we stepped through the crack, reality seemed to twist and warp around us. We found ourselves in a bizarre landscape that looked like Salvador Dali had been given free rein to redesign the set of a horror movie. The sky – if you could call it that – was a swirling mass of deep purples and sickly greens. It was also occasionally lit by flashes of what looked unsettlingly like lightning made of bones.

The ground beneath our feet was spongy and pulsed with an unsettling rhythm. It felt like we were walking on the hide of some gargantuan, sleeping beast. Twisted trees that looked more like grasping hands than plants dotted the landscape. Their bark oozed a substance I desperately hoped wasn't blood.

"Cozy," I commented, trying to ignore the way the air seemed to whisper malevolently around us. " Really loving the décor. Very 'abandoned asylum meets cosmic horror'. We should get Lyra's interior decorator's number. After this, we need an overhaul, and I'm thinking of redoing the guest room in 'Impending Doom Chic’. It'll be all the rage next season, I'm sure."

Stella was a few feet behind, her hands glowing faintly as she traced sigils in the air. The symbols flickered and died almost immediately, engulfed by the realm's malevolent energy faster than a snowflake melting on a hot sidewalk. "Lyra's been busy," she muttered. Her usual pep was dampened by the realization that we were walking into what was probably a very elaborate and extremely lethal trap. "She's set dark wards everywhere. Like, 'make-a-demon-blush' kind of dark."

"Ah, they're the magical equivalent of razor wire and 'Trespassers Will Be Eaten' signs then," I mused. "Lovely." I ducked under a low-hanging branch that seemed to reach for my hair with all the enthusiasm of an overzealous hairdresser with a vendetta against split ends.

"Any chance they're just for show?" Nana asked, poking at a suspicious-looking rock with her cane. The rock hissed and scuttled away on tiny legs.

I snorted. "Maybe Lyra's going through a goth phase and decided to redecorate her evil lair with a 'Torture Chamber Chic' theme?”

Stella snickered. “Or this is a manifestation of how she is deep down.”

That was far more likely than anything else. Pocket realms were manifested by the witch’s magic and were not easy to create. “I don't suppose anyone thought to bring a really, really big night light? Or maybe a portable sun?" I asked.

The ground beneath our feet began to tremble as if in response. Cracks appeared and oozed a sickly green mist that formed into vaguely humanoid shapes. The mist solidified, revealing a group of witches with hollow eyes and twisted grins. Lyra's Tainted followers.

"Hmmm," Stella said, her voice unnaturally loud in the sudden silence, "I think we found Lyra's welcoming committee.”

I nodded solemnly and said, “Someone's been busy with their 'My First Minion Army' kit. Do you think she got it on sale at the Evil Overlord Emporium? Maybe with a coupon for 'Buy one soul-corrupting spell, get a henchman half off'?"

Despite my snark, I swallowed hard and had to fight the urge to turn tail and run faster than a politician dodging tough questions at a press conference. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to get out, to flee to my house and never look back. That urge developed the more pregnant I got. I stayed put. We'd come too far to chicken out now. Besides, I was pretty sure Nana would never let me live it down if I did.

The Tainted witches began to advance. Their movements were jerky and unnatural. It was like puppets controlled by a particularly sadistic puppeteer. The atmosphere around them shimmered with dark magic. The malevolent intent rolled off them in waves like waves crashing against a rocky shoreline.

Nana, bless her sassy heart, looked more annoyed than scared. She brandished her cane like a weapon as she eyed the Tainted witches with disdain. "Well, aren't you just the sorriest bunch of hocus-pocus rejects I've ever seen," she snapped. "Did Lyra recruit you from the clearance bin at the Minions 'R' Us? I've seen more intimidating magic tricks at a kindergarten birthday party."

"Don’t piss them off!" I yelled as the first wave of dark magic from the Tainted witches crashed against our hastily erected shield. "Any other ideas? My 'Handy Guide to Countering Evil Witch Rituals' doesn't have a chapter on What to do when you're trapped in a pocket dimension with corrupted minions! Huge oversight, if you ask me. I'm writing a strongly worded letter to the publisher when we get out of this. If we get out of this."

Stella was weaving countercharms faster than I could follow. Energy crackled around her and pushed back against the encroaching darkness. "Working on it!" she shouted back. I added my power to hers and let her direct the spells. My pregnant brain jumped around faster than a frog in a hot skillet full of popcorn kernels.

Persephone's eyes glowed with divine fire as her power pushed back against the Tainted witches' assault. Where her light touched them, they hissed and recoiled. For every witch that retreated, two more seemed to take its place. It was like trying to mop up the ocean with a sponge. A very angry, magically corrupted ocean.

I decided to do what I do best. I planted my feet, raised my middle fingers to whatever cosmic force thought this was funny, and prepared for one hell of a fight. "Alright, you Tainted bastards," I growled as I pulled my power back from Stella. I was firing on more cylinders. Maybe. "You want a piece of me? Come and get it. I've had a really bad day, and I've got plenty of anger to go around. Plus, I'm pregnant, hormonal, and seriously craving a cheeseburger. You do not want to mess with me right now."

As the Tainted witches lunged towards us, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. We were making our stand in a pocket dimension that smelled like brimstone and bad decisions. It was like the universe's most twisted game of 'The Floor is Lava’. Except the ‘lava’ was made of corrupted magic, and losing meant a lot more than stubbed toes.

But we were together. I brought my smart mouth and questionable decision-making skills. Stella contributed her quick wit and quicker spells. Persephone was literal divine intervention on our side. Aidon was pissed and determined to protect his family. And Nana was armed with nothing but a cane, a lifetime of sass, and the kind of stubbornness that made mules look cooperative.

We might be outgunned, outmanned, and definitely out of our depth. But we weren't going down without a fight. And who knows? Maybe we'd even win. Stranger things have happened. Usually to me, and often with far less pleasant outcomes. But hey, there's a first time for everything.

I would deserve a vacation... if we survived this. Widening my stance, I threw a magical bomb at the approaching Tainted witches. I preferred somewhere sunny, with no hidden realms, dark rituals, or vengeful spirits in sight. Maybe a nice beach resort. Though knowing my luck, it'd probably be built on an ancient burial ground and staffed entirely by zombies.

Just another day in the life of a pregnant witch, reluctant hero, and now an explorer in Lyra's pocket dimension of horrors. Eat your heart out, National Geographic. This was what I call extreme tourism.

"Alright, team," I called out, summoning every ounce of bravado I could muster (which, admittedly, wasn't much at this point). "Let's show these Tainted witches what happens when you mess with the Dieudonne. On three. One... two..." Because the universe has a sick sense of humor and a degree in dramatic timing, everything went to hell. Figuratively, this time.