While the exorcism—or whatever the hell you call this—continues, Alyssa’s demeanor shifts.
“This isn’t good,” she says, eyes scanning the room. “There are several spirits here. A horrible ghost that we encountered in Florida apparently didn’t leave us.”
“Oh my god,” Nina’s voice pitches. “The one that chased us down the path at the Montgomery Estate?”
Alyssa bobs her head. “He doesn’t want us to send him or the others away.”
I exchange a concerned glance with Nina and Lanie, who are huddled in the corner, practically on top of each other.
Alyssa turns to me, her voice trembling with urgency as she says, “One of them is Carl Hampson.”
“What?” Lanie, Nina, and I all say in unison.
“Carl from Knox Harbor?” Nina asks, and Alyssa nods her head.
“Why would he be here?” Lanie asks, looking at me as if I’ll have all the answers.
“I believe he attached himself to me the other day at Marmalade and Rye,” Alyssa explains to the girls. “Matilda asked for my help to move some spirits on. He had to have been there.”
“I knew Matilda was into witchery,” Lanie says, smiling deviously.
“Quiet,” the strange woman hisses, with a hint of an unidentifiable accent. “I need all of you to concentrate your energy on banishing this angry ghost. Tell him that he’s not welcome here.”
I try to concentrate, channeling my inner zen amidst all the noise. But it’s like trying to meditate in the middle of a rock concert. The piercing scream of the demon—or whatever is in this place—threatens to derail my focus at every turn.
“There’s a woman and a child here too. They aren’t angry. They’re stuck,” Alyssa calls out to the group.
With furrowed brows, I attempt to envision banishing the unseen ghosts, but my mind keeps wandering to mundane thoughts. A mental list of things to do in the Grayson case. Did I pack the right clothes for this trip? Can that demon possess me?
“Focus, West,” I scold myself, attempting to clear my mind once more. But just as I start to feel a semblance of calm, someone carelessly bumps into me, nearly causing me to topple over a candle.
“Sorry,” comes a voice from behind. I turn around to find some random girl. Her blond hair is coming undone from her low bun and flying all over the place. Her eyes are wide, and her teeth chatter.
She dashes around me, rushing out of sight.
Who the hell was that?
Trying to banish an angry ghost feels more like summoning a taxi than anything else. But in New Orleans, I’m sure stranger things have happened.
“Bee, he’s getting stronger,” Alyssa says, and I have half a mind to call this whole thing off and make them all vacate this haunted hellhole.
“He’s working with another male spirit. Concentrate,” the woman named Bee demands, and everyone in the room, aside from me, closes their eyes, seemingly taking Bee’s advice. “Buck Sanders. Saunders…”
“Buck Sauder?” I ask, eyes narrowed in on Bee.
Her eyes widen. “You know him?”
“I know of him,” I say, growing more concerned by the second.
If Carl Hampson and Buck Sauder are together, that can’t be good.
I slam my own eyes shut, taking my chances at a sneak attack on Buck Sauder or Carl Hampson, who’s either pissed off about being murdered or still struggling with his inner demons. In my mind, I make it very clear to both that my body is not open for takeover. I witnessed that once between Corinne and Charlie, and absolutely fucking not. No way. Stay the hell back.
One minute the place is moaning and threatening collapse, and the next it’s silent. I peek one eye open to find all the women sharing glances that I can’t read.
You could hear a pin drop as Alyssa and Bee scour the area, searching for any signs of the spirits.
“They’re gone,” Alyssa says.
