Page 5 of Poltergeists & Change of Life

I shook my head, trying to refocus. "Okay, so we've established it's bad. Really bad. Like, a dumpster fire filled with cursed artifacts and the souls of the damned bad. But what does that mean for us? How do we fight it?"

“It means,”Tarja began, “that you're dealing with something far beyond your usual magical mishaps. This isn't just Lyra being her usual psychotic self. She's tapped into something... older. More primal.”

"Which means Lyra's leveled up her crazy," Nana said with a nod. "Why have a normal case to deal with when we can have a 'my archenemy is raising the dead' extravaganza? I swear, that woman needs a hobby that doesn't involve trying to kill us all. Maybe she should take up knitting. She could make evil sweaters instead of evil spirits."

I couldn't help but chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation. Leave it to Nana to find humor in the face of certain doom. It was like her superpower. It was right up there with her ability to guilt-trip faster than the speed of light. "Maybe we should send her a craft kit. One titled, '101 Things to Do That Don't Involve Dark Magic and Murder’. We could even include some safety scissors so she doesn't hurt herself while cutting out paper dolls instead of our throats."

Stella snorted. The sound was somewhere between amusement and despair. "Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well. 'Dear Lyra, please stop with the assassination attempts. Have you considered scrapbooking instead? XoXo, The Witches You're Trying to Kill’."

Nina giggled, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders like a deflating balloon. "Or we could suggest interpretive dance. She could express her homicidal tendencies through the art of movement."

“Oh, please no,”Tarja's mental voice groaned loud enough to make us all wince. “The last thing we need is Lyra pirouetting around the neighborhood, leaving a trail of corpses in her wake. Although... it might be amusing to watch.”

I shook my head as a smile tugged at my lips despite everything. It was like trying not to laugh at a funeral. It was inappropriate, but sometimes necessary for sanity. "As much as I'd love to brainstorm new hobbies for our resident psychopath, we've got a lot to do. Looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Time to hit the books – and by books, I mean every grimoire, cursed journal, and magical tome we can get our hands on. We're going to figure out what Lyra did, and then we're going to undo it faster than a shifter ditches their pants.”

Stella flopped onto one of the barstools with all the grace of a sack of drunk potatoes. "Research? Can't we just, I don't know, throw holy water at her and call it a day? Or maybe sage the crap out of her grave? I hear that works for regular ghosts. Maybe we could supercharge it for our turbocharged specter?"

I shot her a look and raised an eyebrow high enough to achieve orbit. "Sure, and while we're at it, why don't we invite Lyra over for tea and crumpets? Maybe she'll be so impressed by our hospitality that she'll decide to give up evil and take up gardening instead. 'Oh, look at my lovely azaleas! Much nicer than killing people and ruining lives, don't you think?'"

"Ooh, can we poison the crumpets?" Nina chimed in with a grin, her eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief usually reserved for cats eyeing an unattended fish tank.

“Now that's an idea I can get behind,”Tarja purred in our minds. “I know some undetectable poisons.”

Laughter bubbled up from deep in my chest like a witch's brew reaching its boiling point. Even in the face of spectral danger and dark magic, my family's ability to find humor was our greatest strength. It was like a light in the darkness, pushing back against the fear and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm us. Or maybe we were all just losing our minds. It was a toss-up at this point.

I clapped my hands together like a deranged camp counselor. "Less joking, more researching. We've got a ghost to un-ghost and a witch to un-witch. Let's get to work before Hattie decides to redecorate the living room with our entrails. I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on being part of a supernatural DIY project."

As we dispersed to gather our research materials, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Lyra had upped her game. We needed to be ready for whatever she threw at us next.

I waddled over to the books left on the small desk in the kitchen. My pregnant belly made the simple task feel like an Olympic event. As I reached for a particularly ancient-looking tome, Tarja's voice echoed in our minds again. “There's something else you should all know about the magic Lyra used,”she said, her mental voice losing its usual sarcastic edge. “It's not just powerful. It's corrupting. The longer Hattie remains in this state, the harder it will be to bring her back. If we don't act soon, we might lose her forever to the dark side. And trust me, they don't have cookies good enough to make that worth it.”

A chill ran down my spine, and I saw similar reactions from the others. It had nothing to do with the lingering cold from our encounter in the clearing. It was more like what you get when you realize you left the oven on. If that oven was capable of unleashing hell on earth.

"How long do we have?" Stella voiced the question on everyone's mind.

“I'm not sure,”Tarja admitted, and I could feel her frustration mirroring our own. “But I'd say no more than a few days. After that...”

"After that, we're dealing with a permanent poltergeist with a grudge," I finished grimly. "No pressure or anything. It's not like we're racing against time to save a friend's soul while pregnant with triplets and fending off a psychotic witch. Oh wait, that's exactly what we're doing. Just another day in our crazy lives."

I grabbed the book and waddled back to the others, my mind racing faster than my bladder filled these days. "Okay, team," I said, drawing their attention. "You heard Tarja. We've got a new wrinkle. The spell Lyra used isn't just powerful. It's corrupting our beloved Hattie. We've got a limited window to save her before she goes full Dark Side on us. And trust me, the Dark Side's dental plan is not worth it."

Nana's eyes narrowed. "That's not a lot of time."

"No, it's not," I agreed, dropping the book on the table with a thud that probably echoed in the underworld. "After that, we might be looking at a permanent haunting situation. And let me tell you, I am not okay with having a homicidal ghost as a roommate. The utilities alone would be a nightmare."

“Not to mention the ectoplasm stains,”Tarja added helpfully. “Those are a pain to get out of the carpet.”

CHAPTER 3

The portal materialized in our living room with a whoosh of hot air that made the hair on my arms stand up. My heart kicked into overdrive, and I prepared to blast whatever Lyra sent this time until I felt my mate’s familiar energy. Mom and Nana looked ready to throw down because they didn’t know it was Aidon. He never returned in the house. His worry for me and the babies was driving him now.

“It’s okay,” I told them. “It’s Aidon.”

He looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a hellhound as he stepped through. His clothes were singed and covered in some kind of glowing ash. His eyes also blazed with triumph as he held up a velvet pouch. "I have everything," he announced as he strode toward me. The relief that flooded through me made my knees weak. Or maybe that was just the dark magic continuing its assault on my spleen. Hard to tell these days.

Persephone appeared beside us in a shower of flower petals. Dramatic entrances ran in the family. She took one look at the ingredients and nodded. "We must begin immediately. The shadow orchid's potency fades quickly once plucked."

They hustled me to my sanctum, where Persephone had already set up what looked like a medieval chemistry lab designed by Tim Burton. She and Mom worked with precise movements. Mom crushed the shadow orchid until it released a smoke that writhed like it was alive. The two of them added other ingredients one by one. There were herbs from Persephone’s garden and ours. The potion started to smell like summer storms.

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