Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Elle grips her phone like a talisman. Every update shared in the quiet space of the Camry hits harder as I drive us toward the worst night of her life.
My mom just got there.
Holly and Parker are staying at the neighbor’s house.
The nurse says she could have minutes left or hours. It’s hard to know.
I’m forced to brake for a stoplight in town, and it’s the first time the car has been stationary since we left Midnight Manor. Elle turns to me, her knees bouncing with nervous energy. “What if we don’t get there in time? What if we’re too late?”
Platitudes and promises rise from the depths of my old life, the type of thing that passed for comfort in the Erikson household, but I’m not that woman anymore.
That’s not the person who Elle wants or needs.
Instead, I reach across the center console and offer my hand.
After a beat, she slides cold fingers through mine.
“If we’re late, we’ll deal with that then.
But right now, Willa is alive. We’re almost there.
And I will do everything in my power to make sure the containment circle is up in time.
” The light turns green, and I hit the gas.
“No matter what happens tonight…it’s going to hurt.
But I will be there. Whatever you need, if it’s in my power to give it to you, it’s yours. No question. No hesitation.”
Elle tightens her hold on my hand and nods, tears slipping down cheeks that have gone blotchy and red.
I wish there were something I could say that would make this better, but there is no better when a child is dying.
There’s no fixing this. Even my mission tonight is a bittersweet comfort.
The best-case scenario still ends with Willa’s death, her spirit stuck forever at ten years old so she can haunt her aunt at the B&B.
The GPS guides me the final couple of miles to Vivian and Ted’s house, and I park in front, the driveway already full of cars. I recognize two of them from the first time I was here—Vivian and Ted’s—and I know one is Elle and Vivian’s mom’s.
The hospice nurse, I realize. One car must be theirs.
I cut the engine, and silence settles around us. I expected Elle to leap out the moment the car stopped. Instead, she sits frozen in her seat. Even the nervous jiggle of her knees has stopped.
“Elle?” I squeeze her hand, but I won’t ask if she’s okay. She clearly isn’t, and she’s not supposed to be. Not on a night like this. “I’m here,” I say instead. “Whatever you need.”
“What if I don’t know what I need?” Her voice breaks, and she turns to look at me. “I don’t know what to ask for.”
“Oh, love.” I slip out of the car and circle to her side to open her door.
“You don’t have to know anything tonight.
” When she still sits frozen, I reach across to unbuckle her seat belt and ease her from the car into my arms. I squeeze tight while she shudders through tears.
“Whenever it’s too much, reach for my hand. We’ll figure it out.”
Elle nods and blows out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got this. Let’s go.”
I grab my bag of supplies from the back seat, grateful that I put it on top when I moved out of my room this morning. God, was that seriously today? It feels like I’ve lived a lifetime since then.
The front door is unlocked, and we slip into the eerie, reverent quiet inside. We kick off our shoes, and I follow Elle to Willa’s room at the back of the house. The closer we get, the heavier the energy of grief and anxious dread grows.
And then there’s the wet, rattling sound of a girl fighting for every breath.
I stumble, the reality of what we’re about to do heavy on my heart.
Fuck, I can’t imagine how much worse this is for Elle.
For Willa’s parents and grandparents. I suck in a deep, fortifying breath.
I won’t waste magic on soothing my own emotions.
I’ll save it all for Willa. I can hold myself together for Elle.
Despite my internal cheerleading, I pause in the doorway while Elle approaches Willa’s bed.
I don’t know what the room looked like before, but it’s arranged now to accommodate these final moments.
There are two chairs placed on either side of the bed.
Willa’s parents sit together on one side, her grandma on the other with a final chair saved for Elle.
As Elle takes her place, a nurse in blue scrubs joins me from the other end of the hallway.
“Are you the witch the family mentioned?” he asks, voice gentle and pitched low. When I nod, he glances past me into the room. “Whatever you’re planning to do, I’d set it up quickly. She doesn’t have much time.”
“Understood.” I step inside and get to work as unobtrusively as I can. I erect a variation on the summoning circles I’ve used this past month that will keep Willa’s ghost with us so there’s time to explain the B&B and secure her spirit in the piece of lepidolite.
I set out the familiar pattern of crystals, draw sigils that have become second nature as I circle the small bedroom. Each of Willa’s rattling, hard-won breaths spurs me to work faster. To funnel as much magic as I can to ensure a soft landing for the girl’s spirit when it departs her body.
Since this circle is only for Willa, I can include the living inside the boundary, which makes the casting process easier.
Nothing else about this is easy, though.
Once my work is done, I pause a few feet back from the end of Willa’s bed. “I need to confirm one last time. Ted. Vivian. Do you want me to offer Willa transportation to Midnight Manor tonight?”
Vivian nods, and Ted holds her hand. “Yes,” she says, her husband nodding his agreement. “Please.”
And then there’s nothing to do but wait.
I bow my head to give the family privacy as their world shatters around them.
They keep watch over Willa, whispering assurances, holding her hands.
Leaning on one another. When my gaze slips to Elle, I find myself torn.
I promised I’d be here for her, but she’s so far away.
And yet…it feels wrong to encroach on the family’s space.
Ultimately, I stay where I am. I wait. Watch. Bear witness.
“It’s okay, baby,” Vivian says, her voice firm despite her grief. She brushes her fingers down her daughter’s cheek. “You don’t have to stay for us. We’ll be okay. You can go. You don’t have to hurt anymore.”
Willa sucks in a rattling breath. Lets it out.
And then she doesn’t inhale again.
There have been long pauses before, and all eyes are on Willa’s still form as each slow second ticks past. Finally, the nurse steps in and rests his stethoscope against her chest. Before he pulls away to announce that she’s officially gone, a shimmer of white rises from her body.
I send a pulse of magic forward, a soft encouragement for the girl’s spirit. Her soul emerges like mist falling over the end of the bed. It pools onto the floor before rising up and up until it’s about four feet high.
“It’s okay, Willa,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady for the family grieving a few feet away. “You can come forward.”
The column of mist quivers before it shapes into the translucent form of the young girl.
Her eyes are bright and inquisitive, and she tilts her head to one side.
“I remember you,” she says, her voice ringing through the room, drawing the attention of her family.
“You can make fireworks with your hands. Holly and Parker liked you.”
“I’m glad you got to see them.” I trace the celebration sigil against my left palm and set off a small explosion of sparkles. Willa laughs, and beyond her, the effect of that laughter ripples through her loved ones. “I wasn’t sure how much you’d been able to see.”
Willa sobers and turns to look at the room…finding her family clutching her body on both sides. “I’m sorry I died,” she whispers, her attention shifting to her mother.
“Oh, baby.” Vivian rises from the chair and approaches her daughter’s ghost. “None of this is your fault. We’re just glad to hear your voice. To see you.”
“And we don’t have to lose you.” Elle pushes to her feet, urgency in her voice. “I made a place for you to stay. Pippa is here to bring you back with me. You won’t have to leave. We can talk all the time. Your parents and siblings can visit every weekend.”
“I remember…You told my parents about a hotel or something.” Willa shifts her weight from side to side, but whether she’s simply glad to be able to move on her own again or the motion is born of nerves, I can’t tell. “There are other…spirits like me there?”
Elle nods. “We made sure all the ghosts are people you’ll like. And I’ll cook all your favorite sweets and play all your favorite music. There’s even a grandma ghost who’s excited to spoil you and take you under her wing.”
“But I already have grandparents…” There’s an uncertainty to Willa’s voice that worries me. Not for Willa herself, but for Elle. For her parents. Willa’s spirit seems less solid now. Less here.
Her smile dims. “Please don’t be mad at me, but…” She glances up at the ceiling, her gaze intent. “I can’t stay here.”
“Not here,” Elle says, like that’s the distinction Willa means. “At the manor, with me. And Alex! You love Alex, remember? Pippa made us these special glasses that will let us see you no matter where you are in the house. You won’t be stuck in a circle like this.”
Willa won’t meet Elle’s eye. “I love that you did all this for me…”
Vivian sniffles and wipes away her tears. “But you have to go, don’t you, baby?”
“Great-Grandpa Charlie is waiting for me.” Willa smiles at her assembled family members. “But I’ll see you again. When it’s time.”
Understanding finally washes through Elle, and it quickly turns to panic. “Willa. No, honey. You don’t have to go yet. I set everything up for you. I—”
“Ellie,” I say, cutting her off as gently as I can while Willa’s form becomes increasingly transparent. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
“No. No.” Elle shakes her head. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We did the impossible. You did the impossible, Pip. We got here on time. I can’t…”
“You can,” I insist, closing the few steps between us and squeezing her hands tight in mine. “I know it hurts, but you can do this. Willa is ready to go. Don’t miss your chance to say goodbye.”
Elle holds my gaze as her sister and brother-in-law share their final bittersweet goodbyes with their daughter, and I watch the panic and anger melting away to reveal the true grief underneath.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Ellie,” Willa says, and her voice breaks through Elle’s resistance.
“No, I’m sorry.” Elle steps past me to face her niece directly, but she grips tight to my hand like I’m her only anchor in this storm. “I love you so much, Willa. I want you to be okay.”
Willa smiles and glances skyward again. “I’m better than okay. I promise. But you have to be okay, too.”
Tears slip down Elle’s cheeks, but she nods. “I’ll do my best.”
With a final look at each loved one in the room—her Aunt Ellie, mom, dad, and grandmother—Willa vanishes from the summoning circle in a burst of light and sparkles.
And there’s nothing anyone can do to bring her back.