This is the seventeenth part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, and Part XVI before continuing.
The next day I wait until I hear Mom and Dad leave for work. Then I wait a little longer just to be safe.
Then I grab my phone, my wallet, and my keys, and head out.
The night before, I had gotten desperate and looked for psychic mediums near me. Yes, I know how it sounds. Like I said, I was desperate.
I had found one close enough for me to reasonably get to without a ride, but far enough away I thought I stood a good chance of getting there and back without anyone I know seeing me and realizing how far I had let my sanity slide.
So I get off the bus and start looking for a purple awning with the moon and the outline of a woman with long, flowing hair, hands held out, palms up like she’s cradling the moon in a bowl, eyes closed like she’s so peaceful she doesn’t have a care in the world. Probably because she’s not being haunted by a crazy classmate.
It has everything but a bright, neon sign flashing “SCAM!”
But, like I said, I was getting desperate.
So I take a deep breath and walk in.
A bell jingles over the door, and a woman looks up from a computer at the cash register.
“Welcome,” she says with a big smile. “How can I help you today?”
I look around, checking one last time to make sure I’m not about to embarrass myself in front of someone I know. I’m sure I look like the worst spy ever, but I’m beyond caring.
There’s no one else in the shop, but I still lean close to the woman and whisper, “I have a ghost problem I need some help with.”
“Ah, you came to see the medium.”
I nod, unable to say the words out loud.
“Right this way.”
She leads me to a back wall, through a curtain of beaded strings, and sits me in front of – I shit you not – an honest-to-God crystal ball. At least, I think it’s crystal. It might just be glass, or even really clear plastic for all I know.
The woman gestures for me to sit in one of the chairs at the table, so I sit. Then she leaves, and returns five minutes later wearing a headband and the biggest gold hoop earrings I’ve ever seen. I make an effort not to roll my eyes, but I don’t think I’m entirely successful.
“My name is Elara,” she says, her voice significantly deeper, and somehow breathier than it had been when we were standing at the front of the shop. “Seer of the Unseen.”
I’m sure it is.
She hesitates and looks at me expectantly. It takes me a moment to realize she’s waiting for me to tell her my name.
“Hailey,” I tell her, and hope she’ll leave it at that so I don’t have to make up a last name.
“Welcome, Hailey. Now, tell me who it is you’re trying to contact?”
“My classmate, Addie.”
“Do you have something of hers?” She holds out a hand.
“No, but I doubt I need it. I can’t get rid of this bitch, so I’m pretty sure she’s here with us now.”
“Elara” raises an eyebrow at my language, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she holds out her other hand, tilts her head back, closes her eyes, and even sways a little. It’s not even noon yet, but I wonder if she’s already high.
After a moment, her head snaps up, her eyes open wide. “Oh, she’s very angry.”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
Elara looks at me as though she’s trying to see into my soul. “She’s very angry at you.”
“I’m aware. That’s why I need you to help me get rid of her.”
Elara shakes her head, flopping her hands down onto the table as she says, “What do I look like, a ghostbuster?” Her voice is suddenly back to the voice she had been using at the front of the shop.
“No, but if you know where I can find one, I’ll try giving them a call.”
She looks at me like I’m messing with her, but I’m 100% serious. So I just meet her gaze and wait for her to catch up.
“You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack. Or a bottle full of pills in this case. Whatever. Listen, at first, it was just making faces at me in a mirror, then it was messing with my electronics, now she’s moving my shit around.”
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, it sounds like she’s getting stronger. And if she’s as angry at you as I think she is, that’s very not good.”
“I’m aware. What do I do about it?”
Elara looks around like she’s looking for the answer stuck to a post-it note on one of her shelves.
Finally, it dawns on me, “You don’t know, do you?”
“I have an idea,” she snaps. “People don’t come to me to ask me to get rid of a ghost. They come to me to help them get in touch with their loved ones. So, no, I don’t know the ritual off the top of my head.” She hesitates, glancing around the room one more time before looking back at me and meeting my gaze.
She says, “I can get it.”
To be continued…