Page 85 of The Curse of Redwood
Taylor laughed. “There’s not a normal goddamn thing about you, C, and I love ya for it.”
Callum stood from the table. “If you’ll all excuse me, I have preparations to attend to.”
“Pretty sure that’s the polite way of sayingget the hell outta my house,” I said, rising from my chair. I focused on Callum. “Is there anything I need to bring when I come back later?”
“Just yourself,” he answered, pinning his deep blue eyes on me. “And a whole lot of courage.”
Chapter Sixteen
Candles burned all throughout the room, and the curtains were pulled shut over the balcony doors. I stood in the middle of the living room, watching Callum move around the area with a burning piece of wood.
“What are you doing?”
“Smudging the house,” he answered, moving the stick in slow circles in front of him as he walked. “I’m ridding the area of any negativity before we begin. It is imperative that no outside forces influence the ritual.”
“Ritual?” I asked.
“Yes.” Callum looked at me. “I regret to inform you that I cannot fully help you tonight. I’ve dealt with ghost possession twice before, and both times were lower level spirits. The presence inside you is much too strong for any mere tonic or spell to banish it. All I can do tonight is help subdue the spirit’s influence for a while.”
“Subdue it? How?”
“That’s where the ritual comes into play,” he responded, placing the sage in a bowl before turning to me. “But first, I need you to tell me what you know, if anything, about the spirit possessing you.”
“His name’s Philip. I don’t know his last name. He lived and died in the 1800s.” I walked over to a picture on the wall and traced the lines of the decorative frame. “I guess I should tell you this is connected to Redwood Manor. That’s where it all began. I knew the dark history of the place and went there anyway. Then, I kept going back, ignoring every warning.”
“Love can often leave us blind.”
I faced Callum. He wasn’t looking at me in a condescending way. He looked… kind. I hadn’t told him about Zeke, but I didn’t doubt his gifts anymore.
“Yeah,” I finally answered. “But I didn’t know I loved him at the time. He was mysterious and charming, and I was caught under his spell.” My eyes stung with fresh tears as I imagined Zeke’s face. Was he staring out the window of the mansion right now, waiting for me to return? I could almost see it too, the sadness in his eyes as he stared at the long driveway, my car nowhere in sight. “I think I fell in love the first time I saw him.”
“Is he a spirit?” Callum asked, pulling me from my head.
A tear slipped from my eye as I nodded.
“And Philip was his lover?”
Again, I nodded and wiped away another tear. I cleared my throat. “Do you think my feelings for Zeke is what triggered the possession?”
“That appears to be the case, yes. Now that I know your affiliation with Redwood, I’m even more convinced of this entity’s power. We haven’t a moment to waste. Follow me.” Callum opened the door closest to him and went into a dimly lit room.
I passed through the doorway and blinked in surprise. Shelves lined one wall, filled with old books, and there was a table that held candles and jars of different colored powders. More plants hung in the room, and the smell of incense was strong.
“Do you know about the curse at Redwood?” I asked, standing in place. I didn’t want to accidentally knock something over.
“I know of it, though the cause is still a mystery.” Callum stood by an altar and lit two candles. A large, leather-bound book sat between them. “I have been to the mansion only once. It was enough to keep me from going back.”
“What happened?”
“I felt the suffering.” A shadow passed over his face. “The negative energy was too much for me to handle. I collapsed outside the gate and clutched my head as I heard the voices screaming to be set free. Any witch who walks onto the property can feel the darkness.”
“Wait. You’re a witch?”
Callum softly smiled. “We’re not here to talk about me. Please sit in that chair.” He nodded to one of them as he grabbed a wooden bowl off the table.
I sat down and watched as he crushed leaves and seeds into the bowl before adding fine powder and water. As he added each ingredient, he quietly spoke. The words were foreign to me, but they flowed from him like a musical chant.
“Is that a spell?” I asked.
