“Your brother’s?” I glanced up.
She nodded, swallowing…get your head out of the gutter, man.“Yeah. It’s the only place I can still breathe in.”
I didn’t ask for more. Her parent’s room would’ve been the answer if…I sighed, grief wasn’t something I needed explained, I recognized it in her voice. “Then that’s where we’ll set up,” I said.
Max’s room was bigger than I expected, clean, still, almost untouched. The kind of room frozen in time because the person who lived there hadn’t come back. His posters were still on the walls, bed still made, and a toy car rested perfectly on the shelf. I wondered what type of man he was, mostly because he was the closest to Elena. I was glad he wasn’t here, because maybe, I wouldn’t have been here, with her, talking.
I laid the last candle down in the circle. The red wax stood tall and steady, each one placed with care until the light formed a halo around the middle of the room. The light of the flame danced against the old wallpaper, rippling shadows into shapes I didn’t trust.
Behind me, Elena hovered near the doorway, arms folded across her chest, pretending she wasn’t worried, or having a hard time trusting this, me.
“Things like this makes the air different at night,” I said quietly.
She gave a soft, shaky laugh. “You’re not helping my nerves, you know.”
“Not trying to,” I said, rising to my feet. “Trying to see if the spirit reacts to your voice.”
Her brows pulled together. “Reacts?”
“Spirits like familiarity. If something here knew you once, it’ll come closer when it hears you again.”
That shut her up quickly, and I didn’t blame her. I exhaled slowly, setting down my tools in the center of the floor. “You and your brother must be close,” I said, not as a question.
Her voice softened. “He’s always been…better than everyone. The kind of person who made everything lighter just by being there,” she admitted with a smile, looking around his room. “He was adopted when our parents got tired of trying, before I popped out of nowhere,” she laughed. “He is the perfect big brother, truly.”
I nodded with a smile, envy taking over me. I was happy for her, having a brother, a gift taken from some way too early. “I had a brother once,” I said absently, spreading the salt in a circle.
She glanced at me. “Had?”
I didn’t look up. “Yeah.” And I left it there, letting the loud silence follow.
She knelt down as I began to light the candles one by one,her eyes following every movement I made, the spark of the matches, the smoke curling, and the deliberate pacing of my hands.
“What are those for?” she asked, pointing to the small bottles.
“Protection oils,” I explained, coating the circle’s edge with a thin sheen of it. “Each one holds a resonance. Together, they form a barrier strong enough to keep the living in, and the dead out.”
She smirked faintly. “Comforting, and very professional, truly.”
“Humor helps,” I murmured, smiling just enough to make her relax. “Keeps the bad things confused.”
She laughed softly, but her eyes stayed wide, alert, searching.
“You really believe this, don’t you?” she asked after a beat.
“Belief keeps people alive,” I said. “Especially in situations like these.”
Her gaze lingered on me. “You sound like someone who’s seen things.”
“I’ve seen enough.”
The air around us thickened, like we were breathing syrup. I felt it, the subtle tug that came before a manifestation. Not enough to scare me yet, but enough to make the hairs on my arms rise. I tried to keep my focus steady, but she kept talking, maybe to distract herself, maybe to fill the silence that was turning heavier by the second. Either way, I welcomed it, liked it way more than I should. Usually I would ask the people to do less talking or none at all, but with her, I couldn’t. Not hearing her voice was almost more terrifying than hearing ghosts and entities in the silence.
“It’s not just a ghost, you know,” she whispered. “This thing…it’s ruthless. It doesn’t just haunt. It hates. It…enjoys fear. He…it’s evil and vile, and very depraved.”
My eyes lifted from the flame. “You’ve seen it?” I squinted,something about how she talked about it pricked me, how it felt like she was holding back more than she’d given.
“No, footprints only.” Her hands trembled. “It whispers my name. Sometimes it laughs, or tries to urmm…touch me.”
