Page 51 of Haunted Eclipse

“Well, as a species, we’re all flawed. Perfection is stagnation. There’s no where left to go, except downhill.” I shrugged. “Good gods, I never thought I’d be pledging to Aphrodite as a priestess. I don’t look like one—I’m not in perfect shape. I may have an hourglass figure, but it’s overly plump in some areas.”

“You’re curvaceous and beautiful. And that’s part of being a woman. Unless you want to devote your life to diet and the gym, you’ll never be model-thin. And even if you were to live in the gym, that doesn’t guarantee the ‘perfect figure.’ Some women are naturally thin and fit, but most? Not really. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, as long as you take care of your health, as long as you treat yourself with respect, then isn’t it better to love yourself than constantly berate what you think your flaws are? And the most important piece: if Aphrodite thinks you’re good enough to be her priestess, then that should be enough.”

“Well, I can’t argue those points,” I said, shaking away my thoughts. “I don’t know when I started doubting myself, Astra. When I was with Dan, I felt beautiful and capable and confident. He was always proud of me, he was always supportive.”

Astra slowed down. The roads were icy and, while it had stopped snowing, the temperature was hovering at around thirty.

“Do you blame yourself for his death?”

I didn’t want to answer that, but finally said, “In some ways. The night he was hit by a drunk driver, was our fifth anniversary. We were going to celebrate at home, but I’d forgotten to buy the champagne. I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. He wouldn’t have missed it. But I apologized for forgetting, and he said he’d pick some up at the grocery store. I told him not to bother, but he insisted. He never made it home. So…in a sense, I do blame myself. If I’d kept my mouth shut…”

“Don’twhat-ifyourself into a depression, love. Was it an accident? No, but it was due to someone deciding to drivewhile they were drunk. It wasn’t the fact that you forgot to go shopping. Neither you nor Dan are to blame, so don’t hold a grudge against him, either.”

I jerked my head around. “How did you know?” I asked, breathing softly. Truth was, I was angry at him, as well.

“Because when things like this happen, we need someone to blame. Put your blame squarely where it belongs: the person who chose to drink and drive.”

“But the guy’s dead—I can’t yell at him. I can’t beat him up. I was so grateful that I wouldn’t have to see him get a slap on the wrist for killing my husband. So many people walk away with light sentences. But it also meant I couldn’t confront him. I couldn’t tell him how angry I was with him. I couldn’t scream at him.”

Hearing the words pour out of me, I realized that I had so much anger left inside that it was eating me up.

“You don’t have to forgive him—the driver—but you have to walk away from it. You have to find a way to let it be in the past. Or you’ll never be free of that anger and it will eat you up from the inside. We can work on it, sweetheart.” Astra turned the corner, following the GPS coordinates. “But for now, let’s focus on the task at hand.”

I pressed my lips together, realizing how much energy I had invested in my anger at the man who killed Dan. I could never forgive him… But could I really let go? Astra was right in that it would eat up my energy. And that I was feeding the memory of someone I hated. Maybe I could talk to his spirit. Maybe I could get the apology I needed.

But she was also right in that this wasn’t the time to focus on it. I fiddled in my purse, finally finding my stash of miniature Peppermint Patties—my favorite candy. I unwrapped one and popped it in my mouth as Astra pulled into Brenda’s driveway.

“She has a lovely house,” Astra said.

“Yeah, but it’s so not her. She needs to redecorate, but I think Edgar has been preventing her from going through with the plans. He decorated the house, from ceiling to floor, and she hates it but she never can quite manage the energy to change things. Maybe by exorcising him, she’ll be able to move on.” I paused, then added, “In some ways, we’re running parallel lives. Only she hated her ex, and I loved mine. But we’re both controlled by them, even after their deaths.”

“You’re right. And as long as you let that continue, you’ll never be free.” Astra parked the car and turned to me. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. And, as I gathered my bag ‘o tricks, I realized that I was ready for more than just the exorcism.

Brenda metus at the door and led us into the living room.

Astra glanced around, then let out a laugh. “Yeah, you have unwelcome company, all right.”

“I know. Since we found out about him, he’s been up to even more problematic behavior. I can’t turn around without something going on—the lights flicker off and on, my hairbrush floated through the air the other day. Shadows creep along the walls where they shouldn’t. I walked into the kitchen this morning to see a column of mist spiraling near the fridge. It vanished, but when I opened the fridge, every thing in there had gone bad.” She shook her head in disgust. “I’m done with this joker.”

“Well, then, let’s get busy.” As I began to unpack my magical tool kit, one of the windows flew open and a gust of wind rushed in.

Brenda hurried over to close it. “See what I mean? He knows you’re here. I’ll be he knows what we’re going to do, as well.” She grumbled and shouted, “Edgar! Knock the fuck off! I’m tired of this. I’m done with you. You were a prick in life, and you’re even worse in death!”

As if in answer to her words, a picture on the wall crashed to the ground, the glass shattering. I jumped, but Brenda was over it. Done. She put her hands on her hips and once again, addressed the ghost.

“Look, fuck off! Go to the Veil. Go do whatever it is spirits are supposed to do?—”

This time, Edgar wasn’t so subtle. One of the pokers by the fireplace flew up and started spinning, heading directly for Brenda. She stared at it, too shocked to move, but Astra—who was closer than I was—managed to grab Brenda by the arm and drag her out of the way.

Brenda sputtered, but Astra shut her up.

“Stop! The last thing we need is to antagonize him. Let us do the work, and keep quiet. You can scream at his tombstone.” My aunt, when she was riled, was a formidable woman.

Brenda backed down immediately. “I’m sorry.”

“Let us work.” Astra motioned to the sofa. “Go sit down.”

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