Page 53 of Haunted Hearts
Benji closes his eyes again. The three of us are still holding hands, the spirit board and candles in the middle of our little circle. It’s been so long since I’ve summoned a spirit, I’m completely out of my element. So I try to sit taller, emulating what Benji's doing.
“Lydia’s mom… will you tell me your name? It’s weird to keep calling you Lydia’s mom when I don’t even know Lydia.”
I’m struck by how casual Benji is. It’s not what I was expecting at all. I don’t know if I thought some kind of Haunted Mansion head in a crystal ball was going to come floating down while speaking Latin or what, but I’m kind of relieved it’s just Benji in his flannel button down, sitting barefoot on the library floor, kicking it with Lydia’s mom.
Suddenly, the planchette in the middle of the spirit board starts whipping between letters. Zeke and I lurch forward to watch, announcing the letters aloud as the planchette moves.
“S… O…”
“Sophia.”
Zeke’s head jerks around to glare at Benji. “Show off! Why do we even bother bringing the board if you’re just gonna beat us to it?”
Benji shrugs. “Sorry. It’s so you guys can ask questions, too. You might get the yes/no answers faster than me.”
It’s kind of annoying that Benji’s the only one of us who actually got the ability to communicate with the spirits the other three of us can only see—or feel?—but it’s why I need him here. We’ve never had a clue why it ended up that way, with Benji being the one who can talk to them, but it’s always irritated Zeke.I guess he must not like it when he can’t hear the dirty talk from the ghost chicks he’s fucking.
“Sophia,” Benji says again. “Thanks, Sophia. You’ve been trying to get Will’s attention, right? Can you tell us why? What is it you need to say?”
“Yes or no questions, my ass,” Zeke mutters.
Benji ignores him, cocking his head to the side in concentration. His eyes are glazed over, his gaze distant. His posture is completely erect, and he’s sitting so still he’s like some kind of wax figure. He’s about as perfect looking as one, too. He and Phoebe look like Mom, all cinnamon brown eyes and thick, chestnut hair—somethingIhave always been a little jealous of.
“She’s saying… something about paper? Maybe she wants us to get out paper so she can write something? No, that’s not it.”
Benji’s speaking aloud, passing along the information as it comes to him. I’ve never been sure exactlyhowBenji communicates with spirits, whether he hears words in his head or sees visions across his mind or just has some kind of feeling. He told me once it was like watching a montage of video footage that’s overlaid with the occasional flash of words. I still don’t get it, but however he does it, he does it well.
“Oh, wait. She’s flipping a bunch of pages. It’s a book! It’s something about a book. Will, she’s trying to tell you something about a book that belongs to Lydia.”
I frown, but I feel the hair on my arms bristle. “A book? What, like a library book?” The planchette flies to thenospace on the board. “Okay, then. Not a library book.”
“Lydia’s writing a book?” Zeke suggests.
The planchette gives a hop and thunks back down.No.
“Hang on,” Benji says. “It’s here in the library. There’s a box…”
“I saw that office,” Zeke groans. “That place is amessof boxes. Come on. Get your shit together, Sophia. You’ve gotta give us something other thanthat.”
“Excuse me?” I bark. Benji hisses at me to be quiet, and I lower my voice. “That’s Lydia’s goddamn mom you’re talking to, fuckwad.”
“Yeah, and she’s gonna bitch slap both of you—or I will—if you guys don’t shut it.” Benji gives our hands a squeeze that I’m honestly surprised doesn’t break my damn bones.
But it works. We shut up.
Suddenly, the chill in the room turns to ice. A silvery mist materializes in the air, wrapping itself around me like a freezing blanket. It’s comforting in its weight, but goosebumps break out all over my skin.
The mist swirls, glistening like moonlight, as it—she—shifts fluidly, seamlessly from vapor to woman, woman to vapor, and back again. Unlike the ghosts I remember from my younger years, Sophia Chandler isn’t just a human form. She’s somehow lighter, more radiant.
“Her soul’s free,” Benji murmurs, as though reading my mind. “She’s here by choice.”
My brothers and I are silent for a moment, mesmerized by the beauty of Lydia’s mom, by the stillness that’s fallen on the room. But then—I sense a shift in energy.
An urgency.
“Get up, Will,” Benji says. He releases my hand. “She wants to show you something, not tell you. I think there’s an actual book here she wants you to find.”
“Me? Why can’t she?—”
