Third Time's a Charm Read online

  “What else?” Vivien prompted.

  “It’s not just mundane tasks like the laundry. It can be something that has left an emotional imprint like a man silently shouting from a window at a dilapidated building and banging his hands on the glass that’s no longer there. Those are the hardest to see. I don’t think they died easily.” Heather picked at her taco, bringing torn pieces of the shell to her mouth. “A contractor I work with caught me talking to one. The ghost had been wearing work clothes and appeared completely solid. I thought he was a new guy until he walked through a wall that used to have a doorway. I looked like the crazy lady holding a conversation with herself.”

  “I wish there were a way we could know they were around, not that I think seeing them everywhere would be better.” Lorna hugged her arms around herself and glanced over the room. Vivien couldn’t blame her for being apprehensive. Anyone would be on edge after an invisible demon had kicked the crap out of them.

  “Thankfully, there are none in here,” Heather assured her. “Just being here with you two, I’m already feeling better.”

  “We should eat,” Lorna said. “We’ll need our energy if we’re going to séance Sam tonight.”

  Chapter Four

  Heather stacked empty wrappers on her plate and handed them to Vivien as they cleaned up their dinner mess. However, several uneaten items were still stacked on the coffee table and in the bag. Vivien left them where they were in case someone wanted to pick at the food later.

  After Vivien dropped the trash off in the kitchen, she came back to find Heather had the messenger bag on her lap and was in the process of pulling Julia’s séancing book from within.

  The padded cover had been embossed with a circle and included symbols that matched their three rings. Whoever had made the book had taken a lot of time and care on its creation. Julia had safeguarded the book beneath the stage at Warrick theater, where she used to hold séances for the public.

  To most people in town, famous Medium Julia Warrick was a colorful page of local history. No one admitted that they believed she could actually speak to the dead. Like many mediums during the spiritualist movement of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, she was thought to be somewhat of a fraud at worst and a kook at best.

  The book wasn’t just one of Heather’s family heirlooms. It was important. It was magic. It contained all the secrets Julia had deemed necessary enough to write down for future generations.

  “I was reading some of the recipes and looking up ingredients online. I think there are ways to protect ourselves.” Heather opened the cover to the title page that read “Warrick” in calligraphy. The entire book had been written by hand, which made some of the entries harder to read. However, it also added to the secrecy of its contents. Some of the pages had decorative borders along the edges, some whimsical vines, others art deco lines. Julia had been a fan of art deco if the style of the theater was any indication.

  Heather turned the thick pages several at a time. The first section was lists of séances that Julia had done in the 1920s and ’30s, which said things like, “December 9, 1928, Fiona O’Leary, six dollars to contact three-year-old daughter Mirabella. Not earthbound,” and, “Jane Benoit, three dollars to contact mother, Josephine. Hateful woman. Ex.,” and, “So-and-so traded a chicken to contact Joe to find out where he hid his mother’s brooch.”

  They found out the hard way that Ex. stood for exorcism. It was a clean-up step they’d forgotten to take when contacting Lorna’s dead husband, Glenn. Apparently, certain cranky spirits could bring other demonic figures through the veil with them.

  In many ways, the book represented utter sadness. It listed name after name of grieving people trying to find answers from the other side. Vivien didn’t know how Julia had done what she did. Vivien couldn’t imagine absorbing so much grief from those around her.

  Heather continued turning the pages. The ring vibrated on Vivien’s finger, sending a small current up her arm. Heather stopped when she found the drawing of a candle.

  “Here.” Heather pointed at a candle-making recipe. “I mean, yes, some of my information came from the internet, so we take it with a grain of salt because not everyone agrees on everything, but I think this light blue candle is for amplifying our message to the dead. We were just lighting whatever was around, and I think we have to give the candle intention? I’m still figuring it all out. Then there are these. They are anointed in basil oil. Basil, coconut, garlic, they’re all traditionally used for protection. Blueberries are to help against psychic attacks. I don’t know if we eat them or smell them or what.”

  “I vote eat,” Lorna said. “In pie form.”

  “I second that,” Vivien added, grinning.

  “I was going to say blueberry vodka form.” Heather chuckled.

  “Oh, no, no drinks tonight. We all agreed,” Lorna said. “Though I would enjoy a red wine about right now.” Just as Vivien was about to get up to grab a bottle, she added, “Kidding. Kidding. We’re being good. No drunk séancing any demons tonight.”

  “So what are you saying? We need to go get candle-making supplies now?” Vivien asked.

  “Could be a fun project,” Lorna said. Of course, Lorna also liked to cook, so she would think boiling candle wax sounded fun. For Vivien, it seemed like it would be cool once or twice, but she’d grow bored eventually.

  “We could,” Heather said, “but luckily we have something Julia didn’t. Overnight shipping.”

  Heather reached into her bag and pulled out blue candles. She placed them on the table. “I intend for these to help us communicate with the dead better.”

  Vivien nodded. “Okay. I intend the same.”

  “Me too,” Lorna said.

  Heather nodded, though it was clear they weren’t exactly sure of what they were doing, or if just stating an intention would even work. She then took out a bundle of herbs.

  “Smudging seems pretty straightforward. We should start doing it at least once a month, maybe once a week.” Heather set the smudging sticks on the table next to the candles. “We light these sticks of sage and lavender, then bring the smoke around each room counterclockwise along the walls and cast out negative energy. When we’re done, we smother the ends in sand.” She took out a bag of sand and a bowl. “I tried it at the theater earlier. I know it sounds odd, but I think it helped lighten the area of negative energy.”

  “You did this alone? At the theater?” Lorna frowned. She lifted her thigh and adjusted her sore hip.

  “I’m with Lorna on this one. We shouldn’t do anything like this alone,” Vivien said.

  “I thought it was worth a try. I can’t keep canceling all the shows.” Heather set the bowl and bag of sand on the table. “I want it to be safe when people return. And William was with me. He’s trying to learn about this stuff too. He wants to be supportive.”

  Vivien knew Heather was frightened for the safety of theater patrons and that she also needed the theater to bring in business in order to pay the property taxes on her inheritance.

  Vivien nodded. “Okay. Good. I’m glad your brother was there with you.”

  William had spent most of his life denying his family’s ability to see ghosts, so supporting them in their new hobby was an enormous step for him.

  “Is that what he went to help you with earlier?” Lorna asked. “He mentioned meeting you at the theater. I thought it had to do with shoring up the stage.”

  They’d found the book by tripping a hidden lever that caused the stage floor to drop. By all rights, there should have been a hole in the floor, but somehow the trap door reversed itself, and they hadn’t been able to get back inside—not that they needed to. The lever no longer worked.

  “We’ve looked at it, but I think the stage floor will hold,” Heather said. “The only thing left under there besides some old ropes and broken pullies is Julia’s altar. I think it was more of a set prop than anything. There are no drawings of it in the book to make me think it is important.” />
  “I think I’m ready to go back to work,” Lorna said. “I can’t keep lying around here all day long. Besides, I can’t let you pay me for doing nothing. You forgot to turn off the autopay into my bank account this week. Plus, I shudder to think what my hospital bill will look like when it comes.”

  Heather looked like she might protest, but then said, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let you come back to work if you let us take some of that pain away from you so you can work.”

  Vivien nodded. “Yep. I agree.”

  “But—” Lorna began to protest.

  “No more buts. I can’t stand to see you sitting sideways like that any longer.” Vivien stood. She walked toward the couch and kneeled in front of Lorna. She grabbed Lorna’s hand and pulled it to rest against her own hip. “Do it.”

  Lorna tried to pull her hand away from Vivien, but Vivien held on tight. Lorna bit the corner of her lip and closed her eyes. Vivien’s thigh tingled and ached where Lorna touched her. Lorna didn’t transfer much, but the woman gave a small sigh as the tingling sensation stopped.

  “Was that too much?” Lorna asked.

  Vivien rubbed her hip. It felt like a sore muscle from working out too hard. “It’s fine.”

  “Okay, now me,” Heather said. She angled her butt toward Lorna. When Lorna hesitated, she teased, “I don’t back this hiney up for just anyone. Lay it on me.”

  Lorna laughed and gave Heather’s hip a light smack. Then, with a deep breath as if steadying herself, she put her hand on Heather and closed her eyes. Vivien watched Heather squint as the pain transferred into her. It wasn’t long before Lorna lifted her hand.

  Heather shifted her weight on the couch. “That’s not too bad.”

  “Can you sit up now?” Vivien asked.

  Lorna leaned to the side, gave a small moan, and smiled. “Omigod, I can’t believe how much that helped. Thank you.”

  Lorna wiggled back and forth on the cushion as if testing her healed hip.

  “You should have done it days ago,” Heather said. “Next time listen to us.”

  “Two days ago it hurt too badly,” Lorna denied. “I couldn’t share that level of—”

  “My point exactly,” Heather countered. “What are friends for if not to help carry the load. We were all there when we brought that dogface demon into our world. There is no reason why you are the only one who has to suffer because of it.”

  They’d made the argument before. Lorna had refused to listen.

  “What I should have done is take you with me to see Rex,” Vivien said, as the idea occurred to her. She went back to her seat. The hip was sore, but she wouldn’t let Lorna see that it bothered her. “You can transfer all the suffering you want to that giant asshole.”

  “Here, eat your feelings,” Heather instructed, nudging a wrapped burrito toward Vivien.

  Vivien groaned and shook her head. “I can’t eat anymore. Fine, I concede. I might have over-ordered.”

  “Ya think?” Heather chuckled. “Listen, you need to push Rex out of your thoughts. What he did to you sucked, and it’s over now. You don’t need him. You don’t need his money. What happens going forward with the alimony will only change your life by small degrees. Don’t forget why we’re here. Tonight is about you finding closure with Sam.”

  Julia had told Heather that was why the three of them were brought together—to help each other heal their pain. Vivien nodded, not correcting Heather’s stated intention.

  “Save your heart for me. It’s mine.”

  She remembered every detail of Sam’s last day. If she let it, the pain would roll through her. This was more than trying to find closure about Sam’s death. She wanted to find a way to get him back. For good. Sam was nothing like Glenn. There should be no risk of demons and ill-will. Sam had been a decent man and a great husband. He’d let nothing hurt them. “You’re right. Thank you for the reminder.”

  “So, if you smudged the theater for ghosts, did that make Julia go away too?” Lorna asked, rolling a sage and lavender smudging stick between her hands before bringing it to her face to smell the fragrant bundle.

  “No. She’s not negative energy. I saw her watching me when I was going through. I can’t be sure, but I think she was smiling and nodding,” Heather answered. “It’s strange. She hasn’t been as vocal lately, but the others are. I’m hoping smudging scared off any leftover negative energy, and she’ll start talking again. I’d give anything for a straight answer. Her telling us that we’re brought together to help us heal from our past pains without telling us how we’re supposed to do that is so vague it’s annoying. Even if she were talking to me right now, I’m not sure it would matter. Spirits rarely give a straightforward answer about anything. Normally they’re too confused.”

  “We’re doing the right thing,” Vivien said. She leaned to the side and artfully tried to stretch her sore hip without being obvious about it. “This is our path. I feel it. We are meant to learn how to wield this magic.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. She couldn’t be sure if she felt this way because it was what they were supposed to be doing or because she wanted it to be what they were meant to be doing. All she knew was that the ache inside her had a name.

  Sam.

  “Save your heart for me. It’s mine.”

  She needed to see Sam. For twenty years she’d carried that name in her heart, and now she had the chance to hear him and see him, hopefully touch him. It had taken her days of begging to talk her friends into trying again. Now that she had them here, she would not let them talk themselves out of it.

  She needed this to work.

  Heather stood. “Okay, let’s do this then. I’ll grab the card table, and we’ll set up in here. It seems as good of a place as any.”

  “What about the dining room?” Lorna asked.

  “I think that table might be too big. It won’t be conducive to holding hands, at least not comfortably,” Heather said. “Is it still in the storage closet?”

  Vivien nodded and Heather disappeared down the hallway.

  Vivien hurried to her room to change out of the business suit. She’d been halfway into a dress when she remembered that in high school she’d been more of a beach bum than a beauty queen. Instead, she’d opted for khaki capris, a t-shirt, and a long sweater jacket. It was something Sam would have expected her to wear.

  When she returned to the living room, her friends had set up a séance area on the folding table. The directions illustrated in the book were simple. They placed the book in the middle of the table and then set the candles around it—blue for clarity according to the candle-making instructions.

  The illustration showed them placing their hands with the forefinger rings on the book to form a triangle, but already they found holding hands connected them better. Heather had wrote out what they should say from the multiple examples in the book. That way they’d all be on the same page when it came time to call Sam.

  The light from the window had darkened as evening turned to night. Vivien closed the curtains, not wanting anyone peeking in on what they were doing. Her street did not get a lot of traffic this time of night, but the occasional tourist did try to sneak past her lawn to the beach.

  Vivien’s bare toes curled against the carpet. She felt almost giddy with excitement. The first time they’d tried a séance, she’d been too drunk to form a coherent thought. This time would be different. This time she’d get Sam to show himself.

  “I think I ate too much,” Lorna said, rubbing her stomach.

  Vivien knew it wasn’t the tacos. Lorna eyed the book nervously. They’d been discussing this for nearly two weeks, but this was the first time they were going to summon a spirit since the attack. It was clearly a challenging prospect for her friend.

  “We don’t have to do this.” Heather reached for Lorna’s hand, hesitated, and then pulled away without touching her. The friendly gesture of reaching out was automatic, but they were getting better at catching themselves before making contact.
There were very little secrets amongst the three of them.

  Vivien was sure when the novelty of the experience wore off, it would become annoying. She didn’t want them, even as her friends, knowing what she felt every second of the day. Yeah, she usually would tell them everything anyway, but sometimes a woman needed to process what she was feeling before others weighed in—like with Troy. She didn’t know why the new neighbor flustered her as much as he did.

  However, it wasn’t lost on Vivien that usually it was she who knew what everyone else was thinking even if they didn’t want her to. It was a lot different being on the other side of the experience.

  Tonight was not the night to try to figure that out. Tonight was about Sam.

  “Lorna? Just say the word and we’ll stop,” Heather asserted.

  Vivien’s breath caught, and she stiffened, waiting for Lorna’s response. Lorna could stop the night’s events with one word—any of them could for any reason. If Lorna said no, then Vivien would respect her wishes.

  Vivien felt tears threatening her eyes, and she forced them back. She held still. Time felt like it slowed as she waited for the answer. She didn’t want to manipulate Lorna with her pain, but she wanted this so badly.

  Sam.

  The name whispered through her thoughts like a plea to the universe.

  Sam.

  Please, Sam.

  Lorna’s eyes met hers, and Vivien knew the woman understood. “I’m all right. We’ll be smarter this time. No demons. Just Sam.”

  Sam.

  Vivien tried to smile, but the gesture was weak. She looked at the book. If this worked, Sam would be standing in front of her on the book as it rested on the card table in the middle of her living room.

  “Light the candles,” Lorna said. “Let’s do this.”