Page 40 of Unhinged Magic
I arched a skeptic brow at the eerie quiet. Silence dominated the room, like it had taken up residence, seeped into every wall, buried itself into the very essence of this manor. When nothinghappened, I wound my gaze back to Skye. She straightened, shoulders pushed back further now.
“I call on Landon to speak with us. We mean no harm.Please.”
The last word fractured as it left her, like the force of it could collect his soul and summon him on a single breath. I knew little about 'the other side' or even if one existed. I was a 'life’s a bitch and then you die' type of guy and had never been proven otherwise.
Suddenly, I lost all doubt. The candles burned brighter, lifting higher by at least two inches.
Skye’s eyes blew wide, as did my own, darting around the circle of candles currently questioning my theory of the afterlife. An unknown intensity pushed against every fucking reason I had for this shit to not be real. It was one thing to hear about it, read about ghostly tales. But this was next fucking level.
Suddenly, the candles dimmed again, until every single one was barely an ember, causing the house to dive into an unnatural light, even in the late-afternoon dusk. I didn’t know if it was nerves or fear. But whatever it was wanted to exit from my stomach immediately.
I slammed my fist to my mouth, swallowing a deep breath, but it was no good. Rising to my feet, I bolted for the front door, sure I was about to empty my stomach onto the porch outside. Fresh air engulfed me as I remained bent over, clutching my knees, willing the nausea to just exit my fucking body, but it never came.
The silence seemed to follow me as I grappled with my lack of bodily function, until a loud smash sounded from back inside.
Suddenly, my inner quiet turned to chaos.
Skye
Mybloodrancoldas the sound of glass smashing echoed throughout the manor. I dragged my gaze from the front door after Wesley’s hasty exit, lifting my finger off the Ouija board and rising to my feet. If he was outside, and I was in here, then what the hell made that sound?
My footsteps fell soundlessly as I made my way closer to a door leading off the side of the living area. Having explored this place as a child, (if I remember correctly), it led to a short hall to what was once a main bedroom. I gripped the doorframe as I entered the darkened hallway, noting it was vacant. Edging one foot in front of the other, a shiver prickled my skin as I followed my instincts to where I thought the noise had come from.
Pausing outside the room in question, I stilled, listening.
“Is anyone there?” I asked into a deafening silence.
Nudging forward, I wrapped my hand around the door handle, pushing it open fully. The slow creak sounded eerily like an invitation, anincantationpulling me forward.
On the timber floorboards in the middle of the room lay what looked like a photo frame, face down, shards of glass splayed across the floor.
Confusion rifted throughout me, my gaze swerving to every wall where I saw no picture hooks.
Approaching the scattered mess, I bent to pick up the frame, careful to not cut myself as I turned it over in my hand. The remaining glass slipped out and onto the floor. I jumped back, holding it away from me until all that remained was a black-and-white photo of a man and woman. She wore a long black dress, pinched at the waist, her dark hair tied back with a ribbon. The man’s slacks were neatly pressed at the front, a white shirt on his upper half, fixed with suspenders. They stood outside what looked like this manor, only not the way I knew it. This manor had a slick coat of white paint with shutters framing each window. A far cry from the abandoned, lifeless structure it was now.
The photo held me captive as I studied the couple staring back at me, even when I knew they were looking at a camera. I wondered who was taking the photo: a photographer, a family member, a child? There was something oddly familiar about the man’s eyes, but that made no sense.
Hurried thuds sounded before Wesley’s frame rushed through the door, looking expectantly around the room.
“Areyouok?” The words barreled out of him so fast they all jumbled into one.
I didn’t know what to say. How to explain the photo in my hand. To another person who saw spirits, this kind of thing would be an easy sell. I had heard about this happening before, spirits sending messages rather than showing themselves, but this was Wesley, and I wasn’t sure how far his realm of awareness extended regarding ghosts.
“Yeah, I’m fine. This just fell.”
His gaze moved to the photo in my hand, his frown deepening as he searched all four walls, just as I had. “From where?”
I shrugged, unsure of what to say. “I’m not sure.”
He eyed the glass laying on the floor in the center of the room. “Fell,” he repeated, studying my face as if it would summon more information.
“I mean, I guess.” I pointed to the middle of the room at the evidence scattered on the floorboards. “It was right there.”
He came closer, silence ensuing.
A thin layer of dust settled over the photo. Coming closer, he swiped a streak through it with his thumb. “A day ago, I would never have said this.” He pointed to the photo. “But that woman looks like she could be a relative of yours.”
Frowning, I studied her closer. “You think?” I understood his reasons. In some ways, she looked a little like me, with similar features I guess, but not enough to convince me.
