Page 128 of Castings & Curses

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m stuck.” He wriggled, long legs swinging about.

“I’ll look for a broom or something to prop the window up so you— ”

“No. Start looking.” He broke off, grumbling incoherent words like a surly bear.

Some of the boxes were sealed with packing tape. A few showed signs of water damage. Unfolding the tucked-in edges of one box, she found some seriously creep dolls. An open box held a toolbox and cleaning supplies.

Dust puffed up from a sheet as she lifted it, making her sneeze. Two dining room chairs piled high with stacks of magazines and old newspapers were beneath the covering.

Behind her, Miles grunted. His shoes scraped against the cinderblock wall.

An oak dresser was under the next sheet. Priya pulled open drawers stuffed full of moth-ball scented clothing.

“What am I even looking for?” she murmured as she pulled another lightbulb string.

Without the little girl’s help, it would take days, weeks even, to go through every box, book, and trunk in the room. She wanted to pull her hair out in frustration. What was she supposed to find down here in all this mess? The longer they mucked about in this claustrophobic space the greater the risk of discovery. How many people would want to hire a spirit communicator convicted of a felony? Or was breaking and entering a misdemeanor? It didn’t matter. Her mother would kill her if she was arrested. Not to mention that any goodwill cultivated among the few police officers who believed in her ability would be blown to smithereens.

And what about Miles? What would be the cost to him if they were arrested?

She stared around the room.

Overwhelmed by the daunting task of hunting for a needle in this haystack of stacked boxes and dust-covered sheets, all her previous worries clamored through her brain, jockeying for position. What if Santa fled? What if he took whatever the ghost wanted Priya to see? What if … What if …

Something shimmered in her peripheral vision. She swung her head to find the blond-haired girl. Still wearing her pink jeans and tie-dye t-shirt, she sat cross-legged on an old steamer trunk.

“You’re here!” Tears pricked Priya’s eyes in relief.

“Who? The girl?” Miles demanded.

“Yes.”

Wood cracked.

“Ouch! Blast it!” He yipped. “Hang on. I’ve almost—”

Focused entirely on the child, Priya made her way around more boxes and draped furniture. She longed to scoop the girl up in her arms. Reining in the futile urge, Priya crouched in front of her. “What did you want to show me?”

Somber faced, the child hopped off the trunk, sending her pigtails flying. She touched the brass-plated lock.

“Do you know where the key is?”

An up and down nod.

“Is it down here?” Priya asked, already knowing the answer.

Lower lip trembling, the child shook her head ‘No.’

“Of course not. That would be too easy.”

The girl’s eyes widened in alarm.

“What?” Apprehension skittered through Priya’s veins.

The ghost whirled around to face the door.

“Miles!” Priya barely got his name out before the door burst open.

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