“She’s started throwing things.” Tears spilled from Brownie’s eyes. “We don’t know what we’ve done, but plates have flown from the cupboards, smashing against the walls.”
“Something ripped up my tires,” Wallace said. “It could’ve been a dog.” He wanted it to be true, I knew, but he said it limply as if he’d given up.
Ruth knocked her knuckles on the table. “What else has happened?”
Brownie thought for a moment. “Those are the main things. Oh, and sometimes it sounds like a boulder is falling on the house. It’s a loud boom.”
“We wanted to leave,” Wallace said. “I told her we should just get up and go. Leave the house. It’s only a shell. It isn’t our family.”
“That might not work,” Alice chirped from behind a cookie. All gazes swiveled to her. She shrugged. “What? It might not.”
I patted the table in front of Alice. “What she means is, depending on what we’re dealing with, leaving the house isn’t always the best thing to do.”
“Why not?” Brownie said.
“It could follow you.” I raised my hand to stop anyone from freaking out. “Depending on what sort of spirit we’re dealing with.”
Wallace pumped his hands. “What are we dealing with?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”
“Blissful has to meet the spirit,” Alice said with authority.
Wallace gestured toward the door. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Go meet the spirit. Find out what it wants. See if the thing will leave us in peace.”
I rose. “Where’s your daughter?”
“She’s asleep in our room. We’ve all started sleeping downstairs. In the back.” Brownie pointed to a wall across from the kitchen.
“Okay. I’ll try not to disturb her. If I can, I’ll avoid that room. But when I walk a house, I generally go into every single space.”
“Why?” Wallace’s voice held exasperation only seen in those who were at their wit’s end.
“Because sometimes spirits hide.” I nodded to Ruth and Alice. Both women rose, and Alice brushed cookie crumbs from her dress. “They’ll come with me. If y’all could, please stay here. I’ll tell you if I need help with a door.”
I turned to go. “Oh, and one more thing.”
Wallace slid a hand down his forehead. “What’s that?”
“In your message you said the spirit had said something about me. Showed you my face?”
Wallace and Brownie exchanged a charged look. Brownie cleared her throat. “Yes. Let me tell you about that.”
FOUR
“The spirit asked for you,” Brownie explained. She fisted another cookie and munched on it while relaying the story.
“The apparition of the woman you see?” That didn’t make any sense. I’d never met a ghost who asked for someone.
Brownie shook her head. “No. Not the woman. I don’t know who it was. Your face materialized on a wall, and then a voice spoke. Adeepvoice. It came from all around me, and then it said in this really masculine tone, ‘Blissful Breneaux must come.’ Well, you can imagine I had no idea who Blissful Breneaux was until I started asking around.”
“Our pastor knew of your work,” Wallace said. “He’d heard from someone else that you’ve helped calm spirits in a home before.”
Our work as Ghost Wranglers was beginning to get out there, which I was thankful for. Not that we took any money from people. It wasn’t right to make emotionally broken people pay for help. At least that’s what I thought.
Not that we’d encountered a lot of ghosts, as I’d mentioned before. But the one or two we had needed some convincing to transition to the other side.
“So that’s why you called us,” I said.
