Page 7 of Presence

I hear her humming in the background as I gaze at the symbols she’s drawn. The lines and shapes blur together, straining my eyes and brain until I decide not to look at them at all.

I take a deep breath, feeling the cold leather against my skin. The room is silent except for the sound of rummaging through the kitchen. I hear her murmuring something, but I’m too drained to make out the words. Then, the sound of plates being moved—porcelain-against-porcelain—rings in my head.

She returns, arms full of items from our shopping spree at Esoteric Cat. She carefully places candles, herbs, and bowls of water around the pentagram.

“Okay, I think we’re set,” she announces, lighting the candles one by one. The flickering flames cast strange shadows across the room. I swear they are forming some creepy figures here and there. But then again, I might be hallucinating.

I watch her arranging everything just so. She’s always been like this—when she sets her mind on something, she goes all in, no matter how outlandish it seems.

“All right, Claire,” she says, turning to me. “Just sit here in the center and relax. I’ll do the rest.”

I nod and move to sit inside the circle, the cold floor pressing against my palms as I lower myself. Every muscle in my body aches for rest, but I fight to stay awake.

begins chanting softly, her voice weaving through the room like a spell. As she moves around the circle, her shadow dances on the walls, elongating and contorting in the candlelight.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on her words, but they’re foreign, slipping away as soon as I try to grasp them. Her chanting grows louder, and a sense of unease creeps over me. I tell myself it’s just my imagination, but the feeling persists, growing stronger with every word she utters.

Suddenly, the temperature in the room drops, sending a chill down my spine. I open my eyes and see my breath in the air, forming little puffs of mist.

“Do you see that?” I whisper, bringing my fingers to my mouth and blowing. She doesn’t seem to hear me, though, completely lost in her chanting as her voice rises.

The shadows around her start to coalesce, stretching and growing like dark, sinewy fingers. I want to shout, to warn her, but my voice catches in my throat. I’m paralyzed, unable to move or look away. I bite my cheek so hard I taste blood and close my eyes, telling myself I’m seeing things.

Feeling a drop in the temperature and seeing moving shadows? Come on, you can’t believe that…

Then, without warning, the chanting stops. The room falls into a deafening silence, broken only by our breathing. I open my eyes to see looking at me, sage burning in her hand. The smell is awful, but it oddly helps me calm down a bit.

Huh, I thought I liked the smell of things burning.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, her eyebrows lifted and a faint tremble in her lip. I can’t tell if she’s just that into her role, or if she desperately wants this to work. Either way, I’m not going to let her down now.

I swallow my fear and lift my chin. “It’s, um, better?” I try to sound convincing, but it falls flat. hesitates, studying me with a mix of concern and skepticism.

“You sure?” she asks. There’s a hint of doubt in her voice. Or maybe it’s hope? It’s hard to tell. She keeps waving the sage, walking around the circle. Suddenly, she steps inside and brings the burning sage so close that my nose starts itching.

Come on, Claire. Don’t cough. Don’t cough. You are…

I cough. The smoke fills my nostrils and lungs, making me gag.

frowns, setting the sage down and patting my back in an attempt to soothe the coughing fit. “Sorry, sorry,” she mutters. When my attack subsides and I wipe the tears from my eyes, she resumes wafting the sage.

I watch her, my mind racing. The shadows, the drop in temperature, and now this choking smoke—it all feels wrong. I glance around, half-expecting those sinister shadows to reappear. But there’s nothing, just flickering candlelight casting long, dancing shadows. Still, the feeling of being watched lingers.

I always feel watched.

“Cam, maybe we should stop,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy, loaded. “You know, for what it’s worth, I’m okay as long as you’re here,” I add quietly, feeling my energy drain away. This time, no amount of willpower will change it.

stops, her movements stalling mid-sway, and she turns to look at me. She places the sage down, the smoke curling up lazily into the heavy air.

“Yeah, well,” she says. “Let’s hope from now on you’ll be okay all the time.”

“Mm,” I muse. “Is it because of the protector spirit?” I’m amazed I can still talk. My eyes are starting to close. “You managed to get it here?”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounds distant like it’s coming through a fog. “I think I did.”

But after that… After that, I remember nothing. All I know is that the world around me builds anew and I find myself in a completely different place.

With a completely different person by my side.

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