Page 20 of Poltergeists & Change of Life

Hattie's eyes cleared a bit more. "Phoebe," she said urgently. "Listen to me. There isn't much time. Lyra's magic... it's tied to an object. A locket. My locket."

"Your locket?" I blinked. "What does it look like? Where did you hide it? I don’t think I’ve come across it."

Hattie's brow furrowed as she tried to recall. "The locket is hidden in?—"

Suddenly, Hattie's form convulsed. The shadows surged back and wrapped around her like hungry vines. Or like me attacking the last slice of pizza after a long day of ghost hunting. "No!" I shouted and reached out to her. My hand passed right through her, and the chill of the grave seeped into my bones. It felt like I'd just high-fived a glacier. "Hattie! Where's the locket? Don't leave me hanging like a season finale cliffhanger!"

Through the writhing mass of darkness, I saw Hattie's eyes meet mine one last time. "The attic," she gasped out. "Behind the?—"

Before she could finish, she was swallowed up by the shadows faster than my self-control at an all-you-can-eat buffet. The tentacled monstrosity reformed. It was larger and angrier than ever. If Cthulhu and a thundercloud had a baby, and that baby was having a really bad day and had just discovered it was out of pain and suffering it might look something like this.

"Oh, come on!" I yelled at the universe in general. I channeled every ounce of frustration into my voice. "You couldn't let her finish the sentence? 'Behind the' what? The creepy doll collection? The stack of old National Geographics? The interdimensional portal to the land of conveniently hidden plot devices? Would it kill the cosmic forces to give us a straight answer for once?" The creature roared. It was a noise that existed somewhere between a heavy metal concert, a category-five hurricane, and my ex's snoring after Thanksgiving dinner.

"Shit," I muttered as Stella and I backed up slowly. "The locket is hidden behind something in the attic. How hard can it be to find? It's not like we have an entire house full of 'somethings' to search through or anything. This'll be a breeze.”

Stella snickered and added, “Like finding a needle in a haystack, if the needle was cursed and the haystack was trying to kill us."

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

We turned to make a strategic retreat. That was hero-speak for 'run away screaming while maintaining an air of dignified purpose'. I caught sight of my reflection in a miraculously unbroken mirror. I was... different. My eyes glowed with an inner light, and there was an aura around me that pulsed in time with my heartbeat.

Also, my hair looked fantastic. Mental note: ask Persephone if we can market this potion as a beauty treatment after we save the world. ‘Evil Radiance: Look Supernaturally Fabulous While Battling the Forces of Darkness’. We'd make a fortune.

"Okay, Team Triplet," I said, patting my belly. "Ready for a scavenger hunt in the attic of doom? Don't answer that. I have to pee. Your silence will be taken as enthusiastic agreement. Let's hope you inherit my keen sense of self-preservation and your father's annoying ability to find things. Seriously, the man can locate his keys in another dimension, but ask him to find the TVremote, and suddenly he's Mr. Magoo." I winked at Aidon when he began sputtering.

With one last look at the creature that was once Hattie, I made a break for the stairs. Time to find a locket, break a curse, and not die in the process. The cosmos really needed to offer a decent benefits package. Dental coverage for supernatural encounters would be nice. Do they make mouth guards to keep from screaming in terror? I made a mental note to look into that after saving the world... again.

CHAPTER 10

I'd like to say we marched bravely into the fray and presented a united front against the forces of evil. But let's be real. We stumbled in like a bunch of drunk toddlers at a rodeo, hoping not to get trampled by the metaphorical bull that was our current situation. The moment we stepped into the hallway on the third floor. I knew we were in for a treat. And by that, I mean the kind of experience that makes you question your chances of survival.

"Um, guys?" I called out, staring at the suddenly very long, very ominous corridor before us. "I don't remember our hallway being quite so... hellish."

Where our normal, boring hallway used to be, there was now a series of elemental challenges that would have made even the most sadistic game show host proud. The first up was a maze of fire. Because why not start with the possibility of being barbecued?

"Lovely," I muttered, eyeing the flickering flames. "I've always wanted to know what it feels like to be a rotisserie chicken."

Nana cackled behind me. "Back in my day, we had to walk through fire uphill both ways just to get to school. Youyoungsters have it easy!" I wanted to be like her when I grew up. She hid her fear well and made you want to be as brave as she was.

"Right," I drawled. "Because navigating a fire maze while heavily pregnant is a walk in the park. Remind me to thank the universe for this character-building experience later."

Aidon squeezed my hand reassuringly. "We've got this, Phoebe. Just stay close to me."

I snorted. "As if I could get far in my current state. I'm basically a waddling fire hazard."

We approached the entrance to the fire maze, cringing when heat radiated off the flames in waves. Sweat beaded on my forehead and slipped down my spine and between my boobs. We hadn't even entered yet. This was going to suck harder than a vampire with a juice box addiction at a kid's birthday party.

"Okay, team," I said, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. "Let's do this. And if anyone has any marshmallows, now would be a great time to break them out."

“Don’t forget the chocolate and graham crackers,” Nina pointed out. “I love a good s’more.”

"Well, folks," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt, "let's not keep our friendly neighborhood inferno waiting."

We stepped into the maze, and immediately, the heat cranked up from uncomfortably warm to Satan's sauna. The walls of fire towered over us. They crackled and hissed like they were laughing at our misery. Every turn felt like a choice between ‘probably certain death’ and ‘definitely certain death’.

Nana's silver hair practically glowed in the firelight. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and glared at the flames. "You know," she said, "I always wanted to know what it felt like to be a baked potato. I should've just asked."

Stella snorted, then immediately regretted it as she inhaled a lungful of smoky air. Between coughs, she managed to wheeze, "At least... potatoes... get butter."

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