Chapter 7. Holly
Holly
Serena was punctual, knocking on Holly’s front door at precisely eight o’clock.
She carried a black bag that reminded Holly of a doctor making house calls.
Hopefully, her guest wasn’t hungry. Holly had gone to the store for some provisions—coffee, cream, a little fruit, some greens, and a few frozen dinners, which were a lot cheaper than DoorDash, but the contents of her fridge still looked sparse.
She had checked her bank balance, and the annoying busker certainly wouldn’t be getting any more of her dollars.
It was a good thing Serena insisted on providing her services free of charge.
Holly wasn’t sure how to dress for the occasion.
Was there special attire for connecting with the supernatural?
Maybe feathers, beads, or a headscarf? She thought about flowing silk wraps or a fringed shawl—something that felt spiritual—but opted for the tried-and-true: jeans and a lightweight sweater.
Serena wore leggings and an oversize linen button-down top. She presented Holly with a bottle of wine and a gracious smile. “I used to buy plants as housewarming gifts, but then people felt guilty if they died. Hope you like cabernet.”
Holly seldom drank, but when she did, she preferred something red. “It’s perfect, thank you. Would you like a glass?”
“No thanks. I actually don’t drink. Messes with my tool kit.” Serena pointed to her head. Her hair was wavy and wild.
Holly felt a twinge of jealousy at this woman’s free-spirited nature. By comparison, she was so tightly wound that if she were a watch, her springs would snap.
Chester approached to assess their second visitor in as many days.
Serena scooped him up, no hesitation, as though he were her familiar. “Who is this delightful fur baby? And so quick on three legs. Cats can teach us a lot about resiliency.”
Holly made the introductions as she set the wine bottle on a nearby table.
“Can you connect with deceased animals as well?” she asked.
It was a ridiculous question—cats couldn’t speak on Earth, so how could they start talking to us from another realm?
Yet Holly found the idea of staying connected to Chester comforting.
Serena set Chester down on a chair, from which he leapt to the floor with his usual grace. “Of course. I can connect with anything that has a soul,” she replied.
Holly found her confidence reassuring.
“Many people believe only what they can see with their own eyes,” Serena continued. “But there’s deep wisdom in the natural world that goes beyond what we perceive with our five senses.”
“I’d like to use my five senses as a starting point,” Holly said. “Why don’t we go to the attic and take a look around?” Her voice held a note of trepidation as she envisioned rabid squirrels attacking her from all sides.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Serena said. “The energy of this spirit fills your home. I felt it the moment I stepped inside.”
Holly shuddered. Her eyes darted around, but she saw only peeling wallpaper, old furniture, and curtained windows blocking the gathering darkness.
Something drew her attention. She thought the rocking chair, where her grandfather had spent hours with a newspaper, had moved, tilting slightly. But when she looked again, the chair remained still. Just another trick of her mind, like the woman in the blue shirt.
“How do we do this, then?” Holly inquired. “Do we light candles, spread crystals, say a prayer? Most of what I know about communing with spirits I learned from Ghostbusters.”
Serena’s warm laugh filled the room. “I promise, I didn’t bring an ectoplasmic vacuum cleaner. I wouldn’t want to do that to Anna, anyway.”
Did Serena truly believe her sister’s ghost was here?
With them at this very moment? The chill in her bones deepened, but with it came a sense of …
hope? To connect with Anna one more time, perhaps to apologize, to express all the love she had in her heart, would be an amazing gift.
But she certainly didn’t want Anna tied to this lonely, abandoned building, unable to move beyond her tragedy.
Holly rearranged a couple of chairs around the old card table where her grandfather had taught her to play pinochle.
Serena draped the table with a purple cloth she’d retrieved from her black bag. She kept unpacking: a small quartz crystal ball she placed on a sturdy wooden stand, a candle in a glass holder, a brass bowl, and a clear pouch with a bundle of dried herbs.
Holly sat in a chair across from Serena, as instructed.
“We’ll begin by stating our intention and focusing our energy,” Serena explained.
She struck a match and closed her eyes, revealing a dusting of light blue eye shadow.
Tilting her head skyward, she declared, “I am here with good intentions and an open heart. I ask our spirit guides to protect us from harm. If there are benevolent spirits in this house who wish to communicate, I call you forward. Reveal yourselves to us now.”
She lit the candle and ignited the sage bundle, which released an earthy, slightly sweet aroma. She placed the smoldering herbs into the brass bowl and set it on the mantel beside Holly’s grandfather’s pipe, creating the illusion that he was smoking it once more.
Holly silently sent her intention into the universe. If Anna was lingering in the house, Holly needed to know and wanted to help. But a voice in her head told her that only justice would bring her sister peace.
Am I as fanciful as my mom, believing in ghosts? Holly wondered. What’s next? Forgetting to pay my bills? Wearing mismatched summer clothes in a snowstorm? Holly had watched her mother unravel, with each lost memory and poor judgment call signaling her gradual decline.
She shook off the fear. Lots of people consulted psychics, and they couldn’t all be crazy. Besides, she was just humoring Serena before addressing whatever rodent had taken up residency in her attic.
Serena returned to her seat and clasped Holly’s hands. The flickering candle reflected in her intense gray eyes.
“Focus on the flame,” Serena murmured. “Relax your mind—you might receive messages through the light. I feel a powerful presence.” Her voice trailed off.
The candle wavered, though no windows were open, and the curtains hung still.
Holly couldn’t deny she felt something. A gentle brush against her leg made her flinch.
Looking down, she saw it was only Chester, curious as ever.
He pressed against Serena’s legs before curling up on the floor and resting his head on her foot.
This was unusually friendly for him. Holly thought it might be a sign, but she wasn’t sure of what.
Across from her, Serena appeared to slip into a trance. Her head lolled side to side, her expression one of rapture. She muttered words so low that, even leaning close, Holly couldn’t discern them. Was it English? Or something else?
“Do you feel that?” Serena asked, squeezing Holly’s hand.
All Holly felt was Serena’s perspiration.
“Um, maybe … No? Not sure—”
“The energy is so strong,” Serena said.
And so is your grip, thought Holly, pulling her hands free. She felt torn between skepticism and the eerie gravity of the moment.
“I’m not sure I’m picking up anything—”
“Try harder,” Serena insisted. “Calm your thoughts and concentrate.”
That felt like a contradiction, but Holly didn’t object. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to feel something with all her might. But the only thing her tight squeezing and concentrating did was give her the decidedly familiar sensation of being constipated.
Her friend wheezed a strangled gasp. Holly’s jaw clenched. Would she have to perform CPR? Shit. She had done the course, but that was ages ago.
Serena lifted her gaze to the ceiling—or heavens, Holly couldn’t say which.
“You have a message from Anna,” Serena whispered.
Fear rippled through Holly. She gaped at Serena, who sat motionless, her once-vibrant eyes now dull as stone.
Serena raised an arm and pointed at Holly with deliberate care. “Anna is here … she’s always here,” said Serena—or not Serena—her voice now a deeper, slower cadence.
Holly’s body trembled.
Serena clutched her chest. Was it a heart attack—or heartache? Had Anna revealed her killer’s name?
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Serena said.
Holly’s breath hitched. Serena’s voice had an unsettling similarity to Anna’s, making it seem like her sister was speaking through her.
“You’re not safe in Beauport.”