Page 52 of Haunted Hearts
WILL
Zeke: Duuuuude. Benji. Where the hell are you?
Benji: Driving.
Zeke: Well, put the pedal to the metal! We’ve got to get this seance going.
Phoebe: Zeke, this is the group chat. Also, you guys are doing a seance without me?!
Will: You’re invited to the next one.
Phoebe: Wait. WILL is joining this seance?!
Will: Long story. Fill you in later.
“Did you seriously forget the matches?”
“I was in a rush, man!”
Benji glares at me in the dark, and I shrug. Just five minutes ago, he pulled up in my driveway, having sped all the way from Boston.
Now we’re at the library, trying to get this party started. We drove here together, figuring it’d be less conspicuous if we park a couple blocks away and keep a low profile. Something tells me it wouldn’t go over too well if the project architect was caught trespassing in the middle of the night with candles and a Ouija board.
Since Lydia’s mom appeared to me in my kitchen, Benji wondered if we could hold the seance there, but I know we can’t. It won’t work otherwise. It has to be in the library, although I’m not sure why. I can just feel it. I can’t help but think that if I hadn’t been so drunk, maybe Lydia’s mom would’ve been able to get her message through, and we wouldn’t even have to bedoingthis.
But then again, I think it was the getting drunk that allowed her to come through at all. So here we are. I never thought I’d be sitting down to intentionally summon a spirit ever again in my life, but I’ll do what I have to do. For Lydia.
“Oh, you two goody goodies,” Zeke mutters as he butts in between us. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights the tall, black candles that Benji has arranged in the middle of the foyer floor. “You think I’m walking around without a light? You’re welcome.”
The whites of Benji’s eyes roll in the darkness, but he ignores Zeke. Instead, he unfolds the spirit board and places the planchette in the very center.
We’re crouched around the makeshift seance we’ve set up in the library foyer. Although we’re alone inside the building, we keep our voices low. I’m already afraid the candles are going to attract the attention of anyone driving by, but Benji insists we can’t do it without them.
“Give me your hands.” Benji sits cross-legged and reaches his hands out, palms up, for me and Zeke. “I’ll do the grounding, but we’ve got to establish a connection.”
Zeke takes Benji’s hand and grins. “You don’t even wanna know where my hand’s been.”
“Zeke,” I growl. “Focus.”
It’s been six years since I last tried to initiate contact with a spirit. My mom. That time it was all four of us—Benji, Zeke, Phoebe, and me. I told myself that if Mom would only show up, would let me feel her presence for just the glimmer of a moment, I’d let down my wall. But she never showed up, never answered. Benji said it was good she didn’t, that it meant she had no unfinished business. That she was at peace.
I close my eyes. I hope bringing Lydia and her mom some peace will bring me a little of my own.
“Okay,” Benji says, his voice cutting through the stillness. “We are reaching out to the spirit of—oh, shit. What’s her name, Will?”
“Fuck. I don’t know. Lydia’s mom.”
“We’re reaching out to the spirit of Lydia’s mom. Lydia’s mom, please join our circle when you are ready.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the flickering of the candle flames and the occasional creak of the building. There’s still the dull hum of spirits in the back of my mind, and I’m having a hard time concentrating. I really hope this shit gets less annoying the more used to it I get. It must, because I never hear any of my siblings complain.
Benji tries again. “Lydia’s mom. If you’re here… if you’re here, Will needs to talk to you.”
As soon as he says my name, a freezing wind whips through the room and my eyes fly open. It’s like the spirit was just waiting, wanting to make sure of what we were really there for. I can’t see her yet, but I can sure as hell feel her. And even though my body’s gone cold as ice, I can tell the spirit’s warm. I can tell she's every bit as gentle as her daughter.
“She’s here,” Zeke says, his eyes wide. He looks a little awestruck. And no wonder—the presence in the room with us is magnificent.
But I’m not surprised. Lydia’s mom must’ve been one hell of a kick-ass woman to raise such a resilient, determined daughter.
