Page 18 of Poltergeists & Change of Life

"Remember who you are. Remember what you stood for. You still owe me twenty bucks from our last poker night. I refuse to let you off the hook just because you've gone all poltergeisty," I whispered to her. Given the millions she left me, that last one was ridiculous to point out, but I had to get her to reconnect with her previous life somehow.

For a split second, I swear I saw the real her. “It’s working,” Mom crowed. “I can see her in the swirling chaos of the potion.” I hurried to the island and looked into the cauldron. Hattie’s eyes met mine in the liquid. I was about to lift my gaze to see if her ghost was still across the kitchen. The pain and confusion in her expression kept me rooted in place. It was like looking at a friend through a funhouse mirror. She was familiar and yet horribly distorted. Think of it as distorted mirrors designed by H.P. Lovecraft with a side of Salvador Dali.

The moment passed, and her assault was redoubled. The very foundations of the house groaned in protest. They sounded like a cranky old man who'd been woken up from his nap by a herd of elephants doing the macarena. While wearing tap shoes. And playing bagpipes.

"Now, Phoebe!" Mom's voice cut through everything, clear as a bell and twice as commanding. If she ever decided to give up the whole witch-vampire-shifter gig, she'd have a promisingcareer as a drill sergeant. "Touch the cauldron! Channel that maternal energy! Think happy thoughts! Or angry thoughts! Any thoughts that aren't 'Oh god, oh god, we're all going to die!’"

Without thinking, my hand flew forward and connected with the surprisingly cool metal. My fingers slipped as another tremor threatened to knock me off my feet. It was like trying to do yoga on a mechanical bull. I pushed every thought that had gone through my head moments before into the liquid.

The world went white as if someone had just hit the universal reset button. It was also entirely possible we'd all just been transported to the world's blandest art gallery. For a moment, I wondered if this was what it felt like to be inside a computer when someone force-quits all the programs at once.

When my vision cleared, the chaos had stopped. There was no hint of Hattie’s ghost anymore. The potion was now glowing softly. The color had settled on a serene blue that reminded me of clear summer skies and possibilities. It was almost anticlimactic. I'd expected explosions and maybe some dramatic music. At the very least, a voice-over declaring ‘Level Complete!’ Would it have killed the universe to throw in victory fanfare?

"Did it... work?" I asked hesitantly. I half expected the house to come crashing down around our ears at any moment. Or for the potion to grow teeth and try to eat us. Or for a portal to another dimension to open up in the middle of the kitchen and spew forth Lyra's horrors.

Mom was exhausted yet triumphant. Her grin was big. "Oh, it worked alright. We've got ourselves one hell of a magical neutralizer. It's like supernatural Pepto-Bismol for cursed artifacts. It’ll settle spiritual disturbances, neutralize negative energy, and leave your aura minty fresh. Side effects may include temporary dimensional displacement, spontaneous levitation, and the uncontrollable urge to speak in iambic pentameter."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and sagged against the counter in relief as a chuckle bubbled out of me. My legs felt like jelly. Not the fun, wiggly kind, either. This was more along the lines of 'I've been standing in one spot trying not to die for hours' kind.

"Great. Fantastic. Wake me up when the world's saved, will you? I think I've earned a nap. Or a medal. Preferably both. Maybe a medal that doubles as a pillow. Or a pillow made of medals. I'm not picky at this point." I paused, considering. "Actually, scratch that. I am picky. If anyone's handing out rewards for saving the world while gestating triplets, I want it to be edible. Preferably chocolate. Or cheese. Or chocolate-covered cheese. What? Don't judge me. Saving the world works up an appetite."

Mom shook her head fondly and chuckled. "Only you could joke about chocolate-covered cheese after what we just went through. But you're right. You've more than earned a rest. Come on, let's get you off your feet."

Aidon's strong arm wrapped around my waist. His touch was instantly soothing. I looked up to see a swirl of pride, worry, and love evident in his sapphire eyes. "I've got you, Queenie," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I felt more than heard. "Let's get you to bed."

I leaned into him gratefully. Like usual, I allowed his supernatural strength to support me as we made our way towards the stairs. I glanced into the innocuous-looking cauldron of swirling, opalescent liquid before we passed. It was hard to believe that such a beautiful thing could be the key to saving the world.

"Don't worry," Nana called after us. "We'll make sure this little world-saver is locked up tight. You just focus on growing those great-grandbabies of mine."

As we climbed the stairs, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. We'd created the magical neutralizer, sure, but using it? That was a whole other can of supernatural worms.

Those were tomorrow's problems. Right now, all I wanted was my bed, maybe some of that chocolate-covered cheese (hey, a girl can dream). Plus, the knowledge that at least for tonight, we'd done the impossible. As Aidon gently lowered me onto our bed, I mumbled sleepily, "Next time your mother has an idea, remind me to ask for protective gear first."

The last thing I heard before drifting off was Aidon's warm chuckle and a soft, "That's my fierce little witch." His hand rested protectively over my swollen belly as sleep finally claimed me. The weight of the world was temporarily lifted from my shoulders.

CHAPTER 9

Armed with a vial of world-saving potion and a questionable amount of courage, Aidon, Stella, and I ventured into what used to be my living room. It now looked more like the aftermath of a supernatural frat party. If frat boys could levitate furniture and turn the laws of physics into suggestions. Nina was at school and Mom was in the kitchen with Nana, Mythia, Selene, and Layla.

"Hattie?" I called out, my voice embarrassingly shaky. "We need to talk. Preferably without the whole 'hurling objects at my head' thing. I'm rather attached to my cranium."

The room temperature plummeted faster than my hopes for a peaceful resolution. My eyes traveled to the walls where frost was creeping up and forming intricate patterns. They would have been beautiful if they weren't, you know, harbingers of doom.

"Phoebe," Aidon whispered urgently, "maybe antagonizing the angry poltergeist isn't the best opening move?"

I shot him a look. "You got a better idea? Should I offer her a cup of tea and a scone? ‘Sorry about the whole being dead and corrupted by Lyra’s dark magic thing.’ Would you like a biscuit?"

Before Aidon could respond with what I'm sure would have been a perfectly reasonable suggestion that I'd promptly ignore, the air in front of us shimmered. Hattie materialized, but this wasn't the Hattie I remembered. This Hattie looked like she'd been dragged through Hell's own Instagram filter.

Her form flickered between the woman I knew and something else. Lyra's violation had gone a step further. She now had too many limbs and not enough humanity. Her once warm and kind eyes were now glowing with an unholy light that made my insides do the cha-cha.

"Hattie," I tried again. I took a step forward despite every instinct screaming at me to run. "It's me, Phoebe. Remember? The girl you saved because you thought I was worthy to receive your magic? I know you're in there somewhere."

Hattie's head tilted at an angle that human necks were definitely not meant to achieve. When she spoke, her voice was a cacophony of sounds. When I focused, I picked up several people talking at once. None of them were saying anything pleasant.

"Phoebe," she finally hissed. She rippled like a mirage in the desert. "You shouldn't be here. This house is mine. This power is mine!"

"Okay, first of all. Rude," I retorted. My patience for being nice had taken a vacation. "We both know this house has terrible plumbing. There’s also that weird stain on the ceiling in the Sanctum that looks like Elvis. Why would you even want it? As for the Pleiades power? You gave it to me. You’re being controlled by evil magic that's killing you. Or... re-killing you? Whatever. The point is, these aren’t your thoughts. Lyra is using you like a supernatural puppet."

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