Page 10 of Poltergeists & Change of Life

Stella's eyes suddenly lit up with the kind of manic gleam usually reserved for mad scientists on the verge of a breakthrough. Or caffeine addicts who've just discovered an all-you-can-drink espresso bar. "Woah! Look at this segment!" she exclaimed, jabbing her finger at the page. "It outlines a method for weakening the binding. If we can unearth the object Lyra utilized to anchor Hattie's spirit, we should be able to unravel this tapestry of torment. That is, of course, as long as she didn’t change it in any substantive manner when she conducted it."

I blinked, attempting to process this new information while my brain was still trying to cope with the fact that we were discussing the finer points of ghostly bondage like it was a particularly esoteric knitting technique. "That would put us one step ahead of Lyra.” Excitement surged through me over the thought. “We can find the amulet. And hey, at least it's not some creepy antique doll. I've seen far too many horror movies to be comfortable with that particular object. I draw the line at battling Chucky's more vindictive cousin."

Stella snorted and shook her head at me. "The doll would fit Lyra better than something as cliché as an amulet. Then again, we're not dealing with your run-of-the-mill psychopath here. This is advanced lunacy we're up against. She probably took ‘Villainy 501: Advanced Techniques in Spectral Annoyance’.”

I snickered and said, “She must have graduated summa cum laude."

Just as I was about to retort with another sarcastic quip—because in the face of certain doom, my brain decided that snark was the only appropriate response—the door let out a groan so ominous it could have headlined a death metal concert. The sound reverberated through the room and sent shivers down myspine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention like tiny soldiers preparing for supernatural warfare.

And then, as if summoned by the cosmic forces of 'could this possibly get any worse’, Persephone materialized in the center of the room. Her sudden appearance was accompanied by a soft glow. It would have been soothing if she wasn’t my mother-in-law. And we weren't currently in the middle of a paranormal crisis. She radiated an aura of calm that was so out of place in our current predicament, it was almost offensive.

"Ladies," she intoned. Her voice carried the weight of centuries and the placid serenity of someone who hadn't gotten the memo about our impending spectral doom. "I couldn’t get past the disturbance from the spectral plane.” She gestured to the door at the top of the stairs like Vanna White did the letters she revealed. “I trust I'm not interrupting anything important?"

I stared at her, slack-jawed for a moment before finding my voice. "Oh no, not at all," I drawled. "We're just having a lovely little tea party while dodging flying furniture, deciphering the journal of a demented witch. Trying not to become victims in Hattie's ghost story. Nothing important at all. Would you care for a scone? I'm afraid they might be a tad incorporeal, given our current predicament."

Persephone, either immune to, or willfully ignoring my sarcasm, glided further into the room. She scanned our surroundings with the mild interest of someone perusing a moderately engaging museum exhibit. "I see," she said, in a tone that suggested she didn't really see at all. "And I suppose the violent shaking of the foundations and the malevolent aura pervading the area are just part of your unconventional home decor?"

Stella, bless her eternal optimism, perked up at Persephone's arrival like a puppy that had just spotted a particularly enticing chew toy. "Thank the stars you're here, Persephone.We've stumbled upon some rather... intriguing information about Hattie's binding and hidden realms. Perhaps your vast knowledge could provide some insight?"

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the nearest wall. Instead, I settled for a deep sigh that carried all the weariness of a middle-aged witch who was over six months pregnant. "Yes, by all means, let's have a scholarly discussion about spectral bindings while Hattie here is auditioning for the role of a lifetime. I'm sure she'll be happy to pause her rampage for a quick Q&A session."

Unruffled by my caustic commentary, Persephone gracefully made her way to Stella's side. She peered at the open journal with an expression of mild curiosity. "Fascinating," she murmured. "This is indeed a complex binding. Lyra has outdone herself with this spectral manipulation. It's almost admirable. In a terribly misguided and potentially apocalyptic sort of way, of course."

I threw my hands up in a gesture of mock celebration. "Let's all take a moment to appreciate Lyra's impeccable form in the art of 'how to royally screw over the living and the dead simultaneously’. Perhaps we should nominate her for a Nobel Prize in Paranormal Pandemonium? I'm sure that's a category they've been dying to introduce."

Ever the voice of reason in our little trio of supernatural crisis management, Stella cleared her throat. "As entertaining as Phoebe's ongoing sarcasm is," she began, shooting me a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation, "perhaps we should focus on the task at hand? Namely, how to undo this binding before it's too late?

Persephone nodded solemnly. "Indeed. The key, as your research suggests, lies in locating the anchor object. It will be something of significance to Hattie, imbued with both her essence and Lyra's malevolent intent. We also must find thehidden realm. It might be no bigger than a thimble, but it plays an important role."

I looked at Persephone, hope and skepticism warring within me like two cats fighting over the last can of tuna. "So, can you do it? Can you find the anchor or the hidden realm?"

Persephone's expression was as inscrutable as a sphinx with a poker face. "I will try to use my power," she said in a voice carrying the weight of millennia. "But I cannot guarantee the outcome. The forces at play here are... complex. And there is no way to predict how they will interact with my attempts.”

I couldn't help but snort. "Complex. Right. I'll be sure to have an epi-pen on hand." Having no comprehension of modern medicine and deadly drug interactions, my sarcasm went over her head.

I didn’t bother trying for more. I was too busy debating the merits of letting Persephone unleash her godly mojo. On one hand, we were desperate enough that 'mysterious goddess power' seemed like a perfectly reasonable Hail Mary. On the other hand, given my track record with supernatural interventions, there was a non-zero chance we'd end up opening a portal to some dimension where Cthulhu was waiting with a fruit basket and a 'Welcome to the Neighborhood' card.

But as another tremor shook the house, making dust rain down like the world's most ominous snowfall, I realized we were out of options. Hattie's spectral temper tantrum was reaching critical mass. If we didn't do something soon, we'd be lucky if there was enough of us left to haunt this place ourselves.

"Alright," I said, throwing my hands up in surrender. "Let's do it. At this point, I'm willing to try anything short of a séance with a Ouija board and a bottle of discount tequila."

Persephone nodded, and her eyes began to glow with an otherworldly light. She raised her arms, and the air around us crackled with energy. It felt like standing in the eye of a storm.If it was made of pure, undiluted divinity and a dash of 'oh crap, what have we done' thrown in for good measure.

The room filled with a golden light so bright it made me wish I'd brought sunglasses to this paranormal showdown. Persephone's body grew and towered over us like a cosmic being who'd decided to pop in for tea and world-altering magic. Her hair whipped around her face, defying gravity and probably several laws of physics. As her power reached its crescendo, there was a rumble beneath my feet.

At first, I thought it was just Hattie throwing another supernatural hissy fit. But then, with a sound like the earth itself was yawning after a thousand-year nap, a crack opened up in the basement floor. I stared at the fissure. My mouth hung open in a perfect 'O' of surprise.

"Well," I managed to squeak out, "I guess that's one way to do some home renovations."

CHAPTER 5

Istared at the ominous crack in the basement floor. My expression was a masterpiece of exasperated disbelief that would have made Edvard Munch's "The Scream" look positively cheery in comparison. "I'd say that classifies as a deadly interaction," I muttered. "I hope it leads straight to Lyra's Discount Realm of Horrors. I hear they're having a sale on eternal torment and slightly used souls. Maybe we can pick up some souvenirs. 'My family went to a witch's pocket dimension and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

My delightful mother-in-law and unexpected fertility guru, rolled her eyes with all the subtlety of a disco ball in a monastery. Her divine aura made the dank basement feel like a disco ball had mated with a lighthouse. This was about as pleasant as it sounds and twice as disorienting. "Your wit never ceases to amaze me, Phoebe," Persephone informed me. Her tone suggested she'd rather be anywhere else but with us. She was sticking around solely for the sake of her unborn grandchildren. And perhaps to witness whatever spectacular disaster was sure to unfold. "Perhaps we could focus on the potentially world-ending crack in your floor rather than your stand-up routine?Unless, of course, you plan to defeat Lyra's traps and minions with the sheer power of your sarcasm. In which case, by all means, continue. I'm sure the Tainted witches will be suitably impressed."

Ignoring us, Stella crouched next to the fissure. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but her eyes sparkled with her characteristic mix of curiosity and excitement. It made me seriously question her self-preservation instincts. "Smells like a committee meeting of demons with poor personal hygiene down there. With a hint of... is that residual spirit energy? Looks like this will lead to Lyra's spirit-binding realm. That won't be so bad." I loved her optimism. It made the shit we got into seem a little more manageable.

The sound of my snort echoed in the dank basement like the world's most sarcastic foghorn. "Your optimism is truly inspiring, Stella. Remind me to nominate you for motivational speaker of the year. You could title your conference: 'Turn that frown upside down, even when facing malevolent witches and deadly magical traps!' You'll be a hit. We can print brochures. They'll fly off the shelves faster than holy water at a vampire convention."

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