There isn’t static this time, but warmth cascades over my hands and up my arms. The tiny hairs along my arms and on the back of my neck stand at attention. I’m a live wire, with energy rushing through every synapse. At any moment, I’m going to look down and find I’ve caught fire.
What is happening?
I’ve been here for less than five minutes, and I’m ready to bolt.
“Breathe,” Corinne instructs. In between deep breaths and skeptical glances, my nerves begin to calm, and the heat and other foreign feelings dissipate. “Good, Alyssa,” she praises, turning away and addressing my friends. “Let us pray,” she says, closing her eyes and bowing her head.
What happens next borders on bizarre and truly outrageous. It’s worse than the strange sensations and possible fire. Her voice shifts into something straight out of a B-rated horror movie, and I am instantly shooketh.
“God. Goddess. Universe. Maiden, Mother, Crone.” Each word is drawn out and overexaggerated.
My eyes spring open at Corinne’s shift in demeanor. Lanie and Nina both seem unaffected by the animated quality of her tone. It’s as though a different person is seated where Corinne once was. Someone older. More experienced in the ways of woo-woo. She sways back and forth, gyrating her chest and shoulders. My eyeballs bulge and I have to refrain from breaking into a fit of giggles.
Am I imagining this?
We’re moments away from needing to call the Catholic church for an exorcism, and neither one of my friends appears to recognize it.
Their heads are still bowed, eyes closed. I’m alarmed, fearing that we’re dealing with a crazy person, who obviously hates people according to her shirt, and these two haven’t so much as flinched. Their apparent trance has me questioning what sort of hex Corinne has placed over my friends.
Calm down, crazy.
I’ve been to psychics before. They’re generally over the top, but Corinne takes the cake. She’s next-level loony, and I’m two seconds away from pulling Nina out of here and leaving Lanie to fend for herself.Shegot us into this mess.
Corinne’s throat clears. “Eyes shut, please.”
I slam them closed despite my concerns, bowing my head and praying to whatever god is listening to deliver me from this evil.
Corinne continues her bellowing. “We ask you to come to us. Flow through us. Help us connect to you so that we may achieve our greatest and highest good. Amen.”
“Amen,” the girls say in unison, with me following suit a moment after to complete the chaotic opening of what’s sure to be a truly peculiar night.
My head swivels from Lanie to Nina and back again, and still these two are oblivious.
“Now. Who am I channeling?” Corinne asks the collective.
Lanie looks to me, her brow furrowing when she gets a good look at my untamed panic. Meanwhile, Nina remains heavily rooted in her world of complete unawareness, fidgeting with her fingers. I pull my hands into my lap and wait for one of them to speak. Neither does.
I’d like to jump up from this table and run out before the place ignites in hellfire, but I don’t. I came all this way, and somethingdidhappen a moment ago. Maybe this is my chance for answers. Maybe I could get some closure if I don’t squander the opportunity.
Inhaling deeply to calm my nerves, I finally state my request. “I’d like you to connect with my late husband, Garrett.”
Corinne takes a deep breath, nodding once before lowering her head and murmuring unintelligible words.
My eyes land on a clock hanging on the wall behind Corinne’s head, counting down the minutes until this hour is done and the jig is up. She may have some real spooky stuff going on in here, but all I care about is whether she’ll really be able to get through to Garrett. I focus on the large hand, trying to block out whatever it is Corinne is up to now.
“Give me your hands,” Corinne says, grabbing my attention away from the clock. “I need to draw from your energy.”
“My energy?”
She glowers in irritation. “Do you want to connect with your husband or sit here and ask me to repeat myself all night?”
I place my hand back in hers, and this time the severe jolt and heated touch are absent. I focus on the softness of her skin, wondering what hand cream she uses and completely shutting out the fact that she’s supposedly attempting to contact Garrett.
Corinne’s eyes are closed as she appears to concentrate. After several minutes, her brows knit, and she opens one eye. “Do you believe that contacting your husband is possible?”
“Yesss?” I nod slowly, averting my eyes from her intense gaze.
She pulls out of my grip, folding her hands on top of the velvet tablecloth.
