Chapter Eleven #2
“Ready to see if this place is as haunted as the Witch-tionary says?” I ask, the magic flowing through me making my hands and lips feel buzzy.
Elle, who is disappointingly immune to puns, gives me a curt nod, crosses her arms against her stomach, and stares at the circle I’ve created.
I turn on the 417 hertz audio on my phone, which joins the cinnamon and cypress incense already burning in the firepit.
The sounds and smells fill the space as I trace a summoning sigil.
If all else fails, ghosts are attracted to large pools of magic, but the rest of the accoutrements are there to give them a sense of the benefits of moving to the manor.
For several minutes, nothing seems to happen. I funnel additional energy into the circle, tracing variations of the summoning sigil in an attempt to expand the reach of its call. I’m more practiced at banishing than summoning, but I can’t fail in front of Elle. I refuse.
Finally, finally, a prickle of cold creeps up the back of my neck as something tests the edges of the summoning circle. Gray smoke pours into the circle from the far side, wispy and ephemeral before coalescing into the approximation of an arm.
Cold hands press against my back, their chill penetrating my sweater. “What the hell is that?” Elle’s breath is warm against my neck, and it takes everything in me to stay focused on the magic I’m pouring into the circle instead of leaning back into her touch.
“Give it a second,” I respond, keeping my voice low. “The ghost needs to get fully inside the circle before the magic can pull it into a human form.”
Despite the calm I project into my voice, Elle doesn’t let go. If anything, she leans closer, her fingers clutching at the thick fabric of my sweater.
More of the gray mass appears inside the circle, and then all at once, with a swooping sensation like the peak of a roller coaster, the smoky figure collapses into a man.
A semi-see-through man, but a visible one all the same.
“Oh,” Elle says, the simple syllable full of surprise and shocked delight. “Wow, Pippa. That’s incredible.”
This guy, a white man who looks like he died in his mid-fifties, isn’t the type I’d expect to find in the woods.
He’s dressed in a well-tailored suit, and the cap-toe oxfords aren’t exactly fit for hiking.
The ghost stops beside the burning incense and breathes in the scents of cypress and cinnamon.
He looks up at Elle and me, his brow furrowed as we track his movements. “Wait a second…can you girls see me?”
Ugh. I hate when men insist on calling women girls. Elle and I are both nearly thirty.
“We can hear you, too,” Elle says, her voice full of amazement.
“Is there a reason I’m here?” The ghost breathes deep again. “What’s with the incense? And the weird music?”
“We have a proposition for you.” I double-check that the edges of the summoning circle create a solid barrier, and then drop the flow of magic to focus on the conversation. “There’s no pressure to agree, though. It’ll be your choice.”
The dead man in the fancy suit looks from me to Elle, a smile pulling at his thin lips. “I’m intrigued. Go on.”
Elle steps forward, and though her posture is picture perfect, there’s a slight tremor to her fingers.
“My friend and I have opened a bed-and-breakfast in Oak Spires. We’d like to invite a handful of spirits to stay at the manor with us.
In exchange for your presence and occasional interaction with our living guests, we will provide you with a ghost-friendly environment with whatever scents and sounds you prefer. ”
“You want ghosts to stay at your B&B?” The man’s face scrunches with what’s either confusion or disgust. It’s hard to tell for sure with his form semitransparent like this. After a moment, he nods. “I suppose a manor would be an improvement over these woods, especially in the winter months.”
“Really?” Elle smiles, and the hope that radiates off her is contagious. “And the incense and music feel like a fair exchange for your services?”
The suit-clad ghost steps to the edge of the summoning circle, his gaze raking over Elle and then me. “The fragrance is nice, but the view.” He spins his finger in a slow circle. “Let’s see what we’re working with here. Come on, give me a spin.”
Elle falls back a step, her smile gone. Her hands squeeze into fists. “Excuse me?”
“And what kind of guests will you have at this B&B?” the ghost continues, oblivious to the sharpness in Elle’s tone. “Newlyweds would be fun. People don’t come out to the cabin to get busy the way they used to.”
“Pippa?” Elle reaches for my wrist as she falls level with me. “I can’t live with someone like that.”
“Agreed. He’s awful.” I raise my hands, her touch slipping away as I open myself to a fresh wave of magic. “We may have to rethink our approach going forward, but for now…banishment time? I don’t want this creep to find his way to the manor after we leave.”
She nods as the ghost continues his disgusting monologue about the types of guests he’d like to spy on.
Our whispered conversation was apparently too quiet for him to hear, which is just as well.
I draw a large banishing sigil in the air, my arms sweeping across the length of my body as I work.
Magic crackles like static in front of me before the ghost notices anything’s amiss.
“What are you doing? We had a deal.” He crosses his arms, and a flash of intuition washes over me.
I see him standing at the head of a long boardroom table, a similar predatory expression pulling at his face.
Then he’s standing behind a large desk, staring down the blouse of the woman sitting uncomfortably across from him.
“Sorry,” I tell him, flashing a smile that’s full of false pity.
“It’s just business.” With the flats of my palms, I nudge the banishing sigil forward.
It speeds across the empty space between us and slams into the dead businessman.
He has only a moment to look confused and disgruntled before his image disintegrates into nothing.
“He’s gone?” Elle asks. “Not just invisible, but gone?”
“I banished him from this plane of existence. He won’t be able to spy on anyone else.
” I shake out my hands, dispelling the lingering buildup of magic, and turn around to face her.
The disappointment and hurt in her expression tug at my gut, and I wish our first potential ghost hadn’t been such a creep.
“Good.” She crosses her arms and shivers as wind rattles the leaves in the trees above us while the discarded ones dance along the ground. “Now what? Alex and I have to live with whoever we bring in, and I can’t subject guests to spirits who will sexually harass them.”
“We keep looking until we find spirits who aren’t gross.”
Her eyes grow wide as she stares at something over my shoulder. “That one’s a no, too.”
I turn to find a second ghost coalescing inside the summoning circle. Another man, this one dressed in jeans and a motorcycle jacket, but the biggest issue is his head.
In that it’s halfway removed from his neck.
The open wound is jagged, the inside of his neck on full display.
It’s like he died halfway through a decapitation.
A flash of intuition comes in, and I see him barreling down a back road going way too fast. I’ve read that while most ghosts can control their appearance, some get trapped embodying the moment of their death.
Seeing it like this rattles me to my core.
“Pippa, please.” Elle stifles a gag behind me, and I make quick work of sending the poor soul over to the other side, where hopefully his head can fully reattach itself to the rest of him.
As soon as he’s gone, fresh grayish mist swirls into the summoning circle. I look to Elle, whose hope has transformed into trepidation, and I sigh.
It’s going to be a long day.