Chapter 5
Chapter Five
THEO
It’s one thing being visited by Aidan and his new mate, but having the house suddenly full of strangers is a step far outside my comfort zone.
“Did you sell tickets to this event?” I ask, dumbfounded by the sheer number of faces now watching me from where I’m perched on the mantle of the fireplace, only the top half of my spirit body visible.
It’s quite comfortable really, not having to worry about legs, and it’s most definitely worth the look of horror from anyone who has to witness it.
The audience I have now feels like an odd amalgamation of the two worlds I’ve been forced to straddle, and I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it.
Aidan averts his gaze and lets out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, mate. Once word got out about there being a seance at the old Vanderbilt house, there wasn’t much I could do to stop it from spreading.”
Gazing out over a sea of heads, I count 10 people, and besides Aidan and his mate, I recognize none of them.
Joanna is conversing excitedly with two other women, one of which seems to me emitting a large amount of magic.
They watch while a third woman, also with substantial magic, draws a pentagram on the floor and marks each point with a candle.
These must be the witches Joanna was referring to earlier.
The tallest of them looks awfully familiar, but I can’t place her.
I’ll have to make sure they remove the marks when they’re done.
The town sheriff is also here—I deduce this from the badge on his shirt, because it’s not the same man I remember from years prior—along with an older red-headed woman and a boy who looks to be related somehow, all peering curiously at the scene unfolding before them.
There are two males clinging to the back wall, trying their best to stay out of the way, but their auras don’t feel human.
I float over the crowd and take a closer look at what’s being done to my floor. Various sets of eyes follow me across the room, but I ignore them. I hear the young witches conversing below me, so I hover close.
“How are you going to do this without an object?” one witch asks. “We still don’t know who this person is.”
The tall one answers. “There are ways around that. It’s why we’re at this house.” She grimaces as she takes in how far my home has fallen into disrepair. “The psychic energy should be strong enough to pull her here like a magnet.”
Neither have noticed my presence above them, so I continue to watch as the familiar-looking witch bends down and begins measuring the spaces between the candles with what looks to be a modern version of a seamstress’s measuring tape. It has buttons and is an obnoxious shade of pink.
“These angles are off, Simone,” she instructs. “If the angles aren’t precisely thirty-six degrees, the magic can’t flow properly. It’s all about balance.”
“Sorry, Calliope,” Simone apologizes sheepishly. She dips her head and brushes away part of the chalk line with the sleeve of her jacket but struggles to draw another straight line in its place.
Calliope huffs and addresses the room. “Does anyone have a ruler or something?”
Another woman—the one without a magical signature—points to the measuring tape in her hand. “Just use that.”
Calliope raises her chin, refusing to look embarrassed, then she hands it over to Simone. “I guess that will have to do.”
The other woman shares an amused expression with Joanna and catches the eye of one of the males on the far wall. The string connecting them appears golden and shimmering.
After adjusting the pentagram to the proper parameters, Simone stands up and claps her hands together, brushing away the dust and chalk.
Calliope then moves to stand at the top of the pentagram with one of the candles positioned just between the toes of her shoes and starts instructing Simone on their next actions.
“Since this isn’t a malevolent spirit we’re dealing with, we won’t need to seal the summoning circle with salt.
Our intention with this is to guide the spirit back to the land of the living, then tether her in place.
It’s a ghost’s prerogative to choose whether they remain here in our realm or move on.
It is not our decision to make, but they can’t make that choice without some stability.
This particular spirit is clearly restless and unsure of where to go, which would explain why she’s been unable to control where she appears and for how long.
Hopefully, our actions here today will help her gain back that control. ”
Based on my first impression of the woman, I hadn’t expected Calliope to show such empathy for the dead, but her words touch me. Either she’s had first-hand experience guiding a ghost before, or she really is nicer than she seems. Still, I wish I could figure out why she looks so familiar.
Everyone else in the room goes quiet as they realize the moment they’ve been waiting for has arrived.
Whatever it is they’re expecting to witness, I’ve seen it before.
Summoning requires at least two witches due to the amount of magic it takes.
Whenever my father required an assistant for his work, more often than not, I was the only one available.
My magic isn’t significant—I often describe it as something akin to the party tricks that stage magicians pretended to perform—and it’s nothing compared to my father’s talents.
I can move an object or find it if it gets misplaced.
But there is one thing that makes me unique: I can sense other paranormals and their powers, especially other witches. This was the one thing that made me useful in my father’s eyes, and the one thing that always got me into trouble before I died.
I’ve seen enough magic in my life that I have no interest in wasting my time watching it while I’m dead, so I turn and glide back over the heads of my guests, intending to leave the room.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Calliope and Simone take hands, and at once, all the candles ignite with flames.
It’s right at this moment that I just so happen to be crossing over the summoning circle, and without warning, I’m sucked through the pentagram on the floor.