of girl.”
“Ah, good ol’ Thor,” Bailey smiled as her attention shifted to the locket around my neck. She studied it for a few seconds.
“Your necklace is haunted by a very strong spirit. Did you know that?”
I nodded, stifling my surprise. Clearly, Bailey was good at what she did. “Darla. She’s from my old house in Los Angeles, but she followed us here. She was murdered in the 1920s. She’s annoying, but harmless.”
“You both ready?” Marty called out and beckoned us forward again. This time, Bailey complied and I followed her up the walkway and to the front door, where we both introduced ourselves to Layla.
As regards Layla, she was a small, mousy looking woman. Average height, around average build, with hair an unremarkable shade of brown. Her eyes were hazel, deeply set, and ringed with dark circles. She looked drawn. Worn out, defeated. I imagined I’d looked much the same before Finn and I moved to Haven Hollow. Constant stress will kill parts of you, and there’s nothing more stressful than living with a poltergeist that may or may not want to kill your kids.
“These are your specialists?” Layla asked Marty.
Marty nodded while he held the door and Bailey entered, me right behind her. He announced us as we filed in.
“This is Poppy, my potions expert. She’ll provide the prep work before the exorcism and the cleansing afterward.”
“Cleansing with sage?” Layla asked.
“Sage and… some other things,” I answered.
Sage could work on regular spirits. Long ago, Native American shamans burned sage over a fire to cleanse people of negativity and to promote healing, wisdom, and longevity. For regular, low-level spirits, sage produced the same effect as it might on bees. It sedated them, made them more compliant. There was a reason it had been a longstanding process for cleansing personal spaces.
But, waving sage at a poltergeist would only piss it off. If regular spirits were bees, then poltergeists were wasps.
“And this is Bailey, a medium from the Spook Society,” Marty continued, motioning to Bailey. “She’ll be able to communicate directly with the spirit. Hopefully a direct line of communication will allow the spirit to state its unfinished business and usually that, alone, can get it to move on.”
But, based on Marty’s expression, he was doubtful. As doubtful as I was—poltergeists were beyond the point of reasoning. While Bailey might be able to tell us what had happened to the spirit to turn it into a poltergeist, that wouldn’t be enough to force it from the house.
Layla smiled at Bailey and then looked up at Marty with trepidation on her face. “Remember, this is just a visit…” she started as she looked toward the living room. “My sister doesn’t want to be here when you do the actual exorcism,” she started. “Truth be told, even though she won’t admit it, I think she’s scared to death of anything having to do with the ghost. And she’s really scared that bringing you all in here is only going to further upset… the entity.” She swallowed hard. “Is that possible?”
“It is possible,” I answered as Bailey nodded. “But, luckily, we’re professionals so we know what to expect. And on that note,” I finished and reached into my messenger bag.
The vials jangled together noisily as I tried to find the right solution. Finally, I found it wedged near the very back.
I withdrew Enchanted Spiritual Oil from the bag, unstoppered the vial, and began anointing myself with the solution. It was made from frankincense, myrrh, heliotrope, and cinnamon, and had a pleasant enough scent.
Bailey caught me at it and shot me a quizzical look. Marty seemed unfazed, which either meant he’d gotten used to a whole mess of weird, or he’d simply come to expect it from me, in particular. I wasn’t sure if either was a comforting thought.
“What’s that?” Bailey asked.
“Enchanted Spiritual Oil. It’s used for protection from harm. It protects the wearer from anything negative trying to cling to you, aka a spirit that wishes to do harm or wishes to go home with you.” I held it out to her. “You two should put some on, as well.”
“Are you really afraid you could drag the ghost home with you?” Marty asked, taking the vial from me when I offered it.
“It’s not a ghost, it’s a poltergeist,” I corrected him and then started nodding. “And where spirits are concerned, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”
“She’s right,” said Bailey.
“Can I use some of that, as well?” Layla asked, looking at me with a