Page 53 of Presence

“So, um…” I start, swallowing hard as we walk along an aisle. The incense burns my throat. “How did you two even start talking about my... situation?”

Silence. Tense shoulders. My gut twists tighter with each slow, painful step.

“Raven and I are in the same online community,” Camilla finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I posted about what’s been happening to you, and she replied with some clues. We started talking, and I found out she was the shop owner.”

“The world is smaller than we think,” the shop owner—Raven—adds. I think it’s supposed to sound lighthearted, but given the circumstances, it only makes me feel worse. Every nerve in my body screams for me to turn and run, but I force myself to keep moving. My gut is twisting tighter, a cold knot of dread that just won’t go away.

“Right,” I quip, the word falling flat. “Much smaller.”

We pass through an arch made of wooden bookshelves, entering the room where the cat scratched me last time. The cash register sits here, with a beaded curtain to the left.

“Keep going,” Raven urges, nodding towards the curtain. The same one she came from last time Camilla and I were here.

I duck under the low arch first and step into another room, expecting the worst. Instead, I find a dimly lit living room with a small altar covered in talismans, a circle of salt on the floor, and shelves lined with books, jars, and dried flowers. The air is cooler here, the scent of incense mixed with earth and herbs, making it slightly more bearable.

Raven and Camilla quietly follow me inside, their steps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. I can feel them watching me, like they’re expecting me to lose it any second.

I hate this.

“So, um… Do you know how to help me or…” I start, turning around and wrapping my arms around me.

Another beat of them just looking at each other.

“Yes, we can help you,” the shop owner says finally, her voice low. “But it’s important that you tell us everything before we do. We know only Camilla’s story, not yours.”

Camilla nods in agreement, her eyes filled with concern.

“We’ve been researching… stuff,“ she adds. “But there are still a ton of blanks. One thing’s for sure though. Something’s been messing with you, and it’s probably getting stronger. I think it’s... hurting you, Claire.”

Their intense stares weigh on me, but it’s Camilla’s words that freeze me in place—her certainty about the harm isn’t just a guess; it’s solid. She knows. She knows.

“Hurting me? How?” My voice wavers with nerves.

“Please, no dodging,” she insists, her eyes narrowing. “I really want to help you, and I will. But you gotta help me help you. Just... work with us.”

My conviction falters. I widen my eyes, feel my breathing get a little funny, and wrinkle my nose.

This is bad. I shouldn’t have come here. This is just going to lead to more trouble.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I mutter.

Camilla steps forward and cracks a smile. She actually freaking smiles.

“Oh, believe me, we do,” she says. “The stuff we’ve dug up pretty much covers the wildest crap.”

The room falls into a thick silence again, with only the faint sound of candle flames in the distance filling the air. I glance between her and the shop owner, trying to decide if I’m ready to spill everything. But I’ve already come so far…

“I’ve been seeing things,” I confess finally, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might make it all too real. “Not just shadows or fleeting movements. People that vanish when I blink, voices whispering from the corners of the room. Something is watching me constantly. It makes me go crazy. It invades my sanity. At first, I thought it was just because of my worsening insomnia, but…”

“Hold up,” the shop owner interrupts. “You felt this way before the summoning?”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling a chill run down my spine. “I mean... no, not exactly. Things were happening before, but it was more subtle. The presence was always there, but I thought it was just stress or lack of sleep. Not something like... whatever you guys think it is. Then, after the summoning, everything got worse.”

I still can’t bring myself to say the word “haunting.” I always suspected that the presence was sinister. I just never wanted to admit what I always thought it was. A demon. A dark being clutched to my back.

“That changes things,” Raven says, the tattoo on her forehead creasing as her brows furrow. “The summoning didn’t create the doors, it just opened them wider. They were already ajar.”

“What?” Camilla asks, her voice airy. “How come?”

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