Page 68 of Real Fake Hauntings

“The great druid really dislikes me, huh?”

“The great druid only speaks the truth.”

Miriam and Leah were watching the exchange with open mouths.

“That’s awful. Can’t the great druid do something?” Leah asked, recovering first.

“The great druid is a messenger between us and the spirits,” Dorsey said with glee. “He does not command them.”

“Not so great then, eh?” Jim muttered, probably still mad we weren’t doing this in the attic and that he had no keys to the costumes trunk.

“It’s okay,” I told Leah and Miriam in a reassuring tone. “I’m a witch and can protect myself.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Miriam exclaimed. She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad.”

Dorsey harrumphed, then squeezed her eyes theatrically. “I must end the session here. The spirits…they tire me.”

“But she hasn’t asked anything?” Leah said, looking at Veva.

“Don’t worry,” Veva said, “I’m here to lend my spiritual support.”

A sudden gust of wind doused the candlelight, throwing the room into complete darkness.

Leah and Miriam squeaked in panic. Jim cursed. I reached for my phone.

The overhead light came on, and we all gasped.

“She’s gone!” Miriam exclaimed.

Dorsey’s seat was empty. The door was closed. Veva stood by the light switch, her lips twitching.

“Where did she go?” Leah asked in shock.

I eyed the wardrobe. Where, indeed.

“That was amazing,” Miriam said in awe.

Jim was also eyeing the wardrobe, but before either of us could fall into temptation, Veva opened the door of the room and shooed us out. On the way down the stairs, I heard Leah tell Miriam they were doing this again next year, and the two of them left a sizable tip on the table by the entrance door before donning their coats and leaving, whispering to each other excitedly.

Jim left after them, not bothering to leave a tip and grumbling about how we should’ve used the attic and maybe brought out a Ouija board.

“Are all sessions like this?” I asked Veva as I put on my jacket.

She grinned. “They’re always showy.”

I studied the elegant stairs at the back of the entrance. “Is the house really haunted?” I thought of the bag of Ian’s cemetery dirt I still kept in a closet. “There are spells for that.”

Veva laughed. “Dorsey would never conduct a seance in a place with actual ghosts.”

No, I conceded. Dorsey would have more street smarts than that. “Do you know where she was last night? Did she do any seances yesterday?”

“Yes, she’s usually booked full at nights during Halloween week.”

“What time is the last seance?”

“I don’t know. I only came for today’s.” She tilted her head, studying me. “You think she has something to do with the pentagrams?”

“Maybe.”

---