“Did he leave?”
“Not yet, but he will.” Grace grabbed a hotel robe from her bathroom and handed it to the woman before she grabbed a lighter, sage, a small cigarette-type ashtray to catch the ashes, and salt from her purse. She never left home without it.
“What are you going to do with that?” The woman asked while securing the robe at her waist.
“Give you back your space,” she answered, as if the answer was obvious.
Returning to the room, she found the ghost hovering above the bed. She lit the sage and was rewarded with a glare from the ghost. He knew what was coming next. “You know what this does?”
He didn’t budge. He didn’t disappear or move as if in a standoff. Grace moved to the corner of the room and smudged the corner. She made quick work, movingthrough the room while she demanded her intentions in her mind.I reclaim this space. All others energies MUST leave in the name of the Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirt.
She continued with saging the room until she’d moved the ghost out the open door. He stood just beyond the threshold as Grace grinned and slammed it in his face, saging that as well. She quickly layered salt at the door and along the window. “You should be good now.”
“Is he gone?”
“For now, until the cleaning lady vacuums up your salt.” Grace dabbed the burning embers of the sage stick into the tray just as the smoke alarm started to blare in the rooms.
Grace glanced around the room and spotted the smoke detector. She hurried to the phone and dialed the front desk.
No one answered.
“You might want to get dressed while I go explain what happened.”
The woman nodded and grabbed her clothes just as Grace left the room. Grace didn’t wait. She jogged down the emergency stairs pushing past the other hotel guests and out into the lobby. She spotted the man that had checked her and Sam in. He was holding the front door open as people rushed out.
“There’s no fire. It’s a false alarm.”
“What? Were you smoking in your room?”
“I don’t smoke,” Grace argued. “A ghost was harassing one of your guests, and I got rid of him by saging.”
“By what?”
She shook her head. “It’s like incense.”
The fully clothed, frightened woman approached them, and the desk clerk stood taller. “Mrs. Wymore. It’s a false alarm.”
Wymore? Grace tilted her head. “You own the place.”
“I do. I’m Eleonore Wymore.” She patted the desk clerk’s arm. “Johnny, be a dear and call the fire department to let them know it’s a false alarm and that we already know what happened.”
“Yes, Ms., right away.”
“If you own the place, why aren’t you staying in the penthouse suite?”
Eleonore smiled and wrapped her arm around Grace’s. “I got a call from my manager that we were having some paranormal issues, so I came to check it out myself. I took the room that was having the most activity. It frightened the guests before me so badly that they left in the middle of the night.”
The alarm shut off and Johnny nodded with the phone still pressed to his ear as Eleonore led us both into the bar attached to the restaurant. “Why don’t you tell me abit more about what it is you do, Ms. Thatcher, while I have a drink to calm my nerves?”
“You can call me Grace.”
Grace spend the next two hours talking to Eleonore and hearing about how the place had always been haunted, but even more so since renovations had started on the top floor and Eleonore had taken some heirlooms home from the attic. Grace told her a bit about all of the ghosts she’d seen since arriving. The conversation had morphed into the history of the place, and Grace lost track of time, sharing stories with Eleonore about the things they’d both experienced.
“I hope you two aren’t getting sloshed,” Sam said laying his palms on Grace’s arm.
“Ah.” Eleonore smiled. “You’re here with Sam Stone. I should have guessed.”
“You two know each other?” Grace asked.
