In the center of our circle stood a small shrine erected on a wooden block. On the altar, Dede had placed an Egyptian Book of the Dead, a string of maroon prayer beads, and photos or trinkets from our loved ones. I could see Sammy’s glasses sticking from beneath the photo of a slender, blonde woman leaning down to smell a bushel of pink roses. I knew the woman belonged to the man in the blue polo. He had not told me this, and I had not seen him put the picture on the altar, but still I knew.
Half-melted candles surrounded the shrine, and their tiny flames flickered and danced. I stared at the candle in front of me and watched it dip and rise, undulating from side to side like the sinewy body of a snake charmer. As I stared, the flame grew taller and more pointed. It rose until it stood higher than all the other flames, and when I realized that the woman in bells had shifted her attention toward me, I broke my gaze and the candle shrank back down.
“Sing through this body, speak through this body, I summon thee, I summon thee…” she chanted, and her eyelids flickered and she swayed from side to side. The bells on her skirt jingled, and my hands grew moist. The candle flames brightened, and the shadows in the surrounding faces deepened.
Nausea crept over me. It began in my throat with a trickle of saliva that seeped back and down, lingering. The nausea dropped into my chest, and then my belly. Only after it washed through my gut did it race back up into my brain, where the entire world tilted on its axis like a rolling ball.
I clenched my eyes tight, and the vision of blood-soaked towels stuffed into a black plastic bag raced behind my eyelids and sent lightning bolts of dizziness through my whole body. I slumped forward and my curly hair caught a flickering candle flame. It burst like a firework, as if I’d hosed myself with a can of hairspray, which I had not.
Startled cries rang out. The man in the blue polo patted at my burning hair, and seconds later, the woman in bells threw a glass of tepid water onto my head. I gasped and rolled away from the flames. I folded myself into a tiny ball and sobbed into my sweater, which I’d bunched up to my mouth, ignoring my exposed stomach and back.
Everyone was murmuring and moving, and someone turned the lights back on.
Time passed, and then I heard tinkling bells as Dede sashayed back across the room and knelt on the floor behind me. She rolled me over, and suddenly I saw her differently. Her face was warm and kind, filled with compassion.
“Let me help you up.”
I struggled up to sitting, my hair dripping little rivulets onto my collar. I touched the piece of hair that had been singed, and the end was crispy.
“Here,” she said, and clipped the hair with scissors. “Now it’s a reminder, a scar, and you’ll cherish it.”
She put the piece of hair she had cut into a pocket in her skirt.
“Do you mind?” she asked, and I shook my head.
I didn’t speak as she guided me to my feet and through the beaded curtain that led down a dark hallway, and then into a small house. She led me to her kitchen table, where I sat on a high stool and rested my elbows on the smooth red surface of her kitchen table. Everything in the kitchen was red. The toaster and coffee pot and dishtowels and throw rugs. The kitchen table was red, and little red cushions rested on the stools surrounding it. Red roses sat in a white vase on top of the refrigerator.
She returned with a t-shirt that boldly stated, Take Back the Night. I took off my shirt and slid hers on, too overwhelmed to feel awkward at my nudity.
“So, tell me about Sam,” she said gently, setting his eyeglasses on her table.
I stared at the silver frames against the red surface. I reached out and touched one lens, knowing if I put them on, I’d develop an almost immediate headache.
Blind as a vampire bat, he had told me the first time I tried them out.
“Lots of red in here,” I said.
“Muladhara,” she told me. “It’s the first chakra, or the root. Red is the color that symbolizes it. It’s about our connection to earth and groundedness. It’s also about safety and survival. This is my root chakra room.”
“Hmm…”
“And red makes me think of love, not to mention I like the color.” She winked at me and looked back at the glasses.
“Safety and survival.” I repeated her words, and then more images of red besieged me. Red on my white dress, on my pale hands, on the stones, at the edge of Sammy’s mouth.
The woman watched me but said nothing.
“Sammy was my husband, but he was murdered.”
She nodded, as if affirming something she already suspected.
“And these were his.” She touched the glasses, and I thought I saw her shrink from them, but couldn’t be sure.
“Yes.”
“Why did you come here?”
I stared at her watching me, and then I said the first words that popped into my mind.
“To see if he knows…”
The woman crinkled her forehead.
“To see if he knows what? That he’s dead?”
“Yes,” I replied quickly. “I can still feel him, and I wonder if he realizes he died.”
The woman turned to the stove where her teakettle whistled.
She took the kettle – red – and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. She prepared our teas, adding ginger and elderberry syrup.
“Skull cap tea,” she told me, handing me a mug.
I took a sip and, despite the syrup, grimaced at the bitter flavor.
“It will soothe your grief. It’s pouring off you in waves.”
“Can you sense him? Sammy?”
I knew she could. How else had she known his name?
“Yes, I sense him. But I cannot separate what’s coming from you and what’s coming from him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, it’s like there’s no distinction between the images and thoughts he sends me, and the ones I pick up from you. You must have been very close.”
“We still are.”
The woman smiled and nodded.
“I’ve often dreamed of a love like that. A love that withstands even death.”
I took another drink and stared at the woman hard.
“I need to contact him. I need someone that can help me reach him.”
“I’m not a medium, not in the usual sense, anyway. My gifts are more like enhancement. If an energy is there, I can draw it out. But I have the sense you’re looking for something…”
“More real,” I blurted, not knowing what it meant. “I want someone who knows about death, not just light and angels and energy. I need Hermes, the God who can travel into the Underworld and bring Sammy back.”
The woman dropped her gaze, frowning. She stayed quiet for a moment more and then seemed to come to a decision. She left the room, and I waited, glancing toward the window and the dark night.
Returning, she handed me a small sheet of parchment paper.
“There’s a book I’ve heard of. It contains a story, and rumor has it, it’s a true story. My advice is that you start there. It may not be easy to find. It’s been out of print for a few years.”
I looked at the sheet of paper and read The Summoning by Fletcher Wolfe.
CHAPTER 18
Then
Corrie
“I am the eternally gorgeous Bride of Frankenstein,” I told Sarah, holding up the moth-eaten wedding gown I had bought at the Salvation Army. Sammy’s mother had improved upon the dress, adding green lace and black stitching. I would dye my creamy brown hair black for the occasion and pile it high on my head, run through with cobwebs and bones.
I heard Sammy downstairs, directing his mother.
“Yes, exactly. Little fangs come out of the baby’s mouth. Head blown partially off.”
Sarah cocked her head.
“He‘s wearing a Total Recall costume? Veering from the traditional horror cast?” she asked.
“Yep, he says he’s overdone Dracula and the Werewolf, so he’s onto space aliens.”
�
�Humph, well, I’m sticking to my usual slutty chick in a position of power role. I think this year, I’m getting a Sexy Construction Worker outfit.”
“Positions of power, huh?”
“Hell yeah. What’s more powerful than holding a jack hammer between your legs?”
“I don’t think that’s where you hold one,” I laughed, and laid the dress back on the bed, careful to keep it on the plastic sheet Sammy’s mother had laid out.
“We could shorten this up, maybe bring down the bust a foot or so, and you’d be right there with me,” Sarah said, touching the beaded neckline.
I grinned and imagined Sammy’s face when I showed up as Sexy Bride of Frankenstein.
“No way. Two shots, and Sammy would try to reproduce in the laundry room.”
Sarah guffawed and yelled to Sammy.
“Corrie wants fishnet stockings with her costume, Mom.”
“Fat chance,” Sammy called back. “Plus, that dress is going to have a train. No one will even see your stockings, love.”
I shook my head and listened to Sarah and Sammy argue back and forth about the importance of nylons, no matter how long the skirt.
“Icy’s with your sister?” Sarah asked, holding her white t-shirt away from her stomach and inspecting a tiny stain. “Damn, I must have spilled iced tea.”
“Yeah, she’s staying the night. I told Amy we needed your mom’s undivided attention for the costume prep.”
“And a night alone?” Sarah asked, winking at me.
I grinned.
“We’re always grateful for a night alone. After we’re done with the costumes, we’re headed downtown to get fat on pastries, drink too much coffee, and catch a movie at the State Theatre - the perfect Saturday night.”
“What’s playing?” Sarah squatted down as our two cats lumbered in. They rarely went anywhere without the other.
“Honey, come here, sweet girl,” Sarah cooed, beckoning to our older female cat whose gray fur was silky soft. Dracula pushed Honey out of the way and reached Sarah’s outstretched fingers first, planting his plump orange body in Honey’s path.
“We’re seeing Gone with the Wind. I had to promise Sammy we’d watch The Exorcist tomorrow to make up for it.”
Sarah laughed, gently pushing Dracula onto his side and rubbing his belly. He affectionately bit her hand. “I hate to say it, Corrie, but I find both of your tastes in movies rather appalling. Isn’t there a new X-Men or something a little more action-packed showing?”
I sighed and gave her a dreamy look.
“Wolverine can’t hold a flame to Rhett Butler.”
I leaned down as Honey sauntered my way. As my fingers reached for her, she stopped, her hair standing on end.
“Hey, pretty girl. What’s that look for?”
Her green eyes grew wide and she bared her teeth, hissing before she raced from the room.
“Jeez, way to make a girl feel loved,” I called after her, laughing.
Sammy rushed into the room and ripped open his green button-down shirt to reveal a grotesque baby torso dangling from his stomach. Kuato, the mutant seer from Total Recall, had been Sammy’s costume choice, and I recoiled at its vacant, staring eyes.
“God, Mom is good at this shit,” Sarah said, touching the waxy face and grimacing.
“Last chance to go as the mutant hooker with three boobs,” Sammy exclaimed, lunging toward me.
I swatted him away.
“Ooh yeah,” Sarah agreed, her face lighting up. “Corrie, that would be hot and gross! It’s perfect.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes toward Sammy.
“Can you imagine him if I had three breasts? Like a dog in heat.”
Sammy dropped to his knees. He whimpered and wrapped himself around my feet, legs and arms in the air.
“Do you ruv me?”
“Too much,” I groaned, nudging the dead baby with my foot. “But that thing gives me the creeps. I don’t think you’ve outdone Dracula. You could go as Nosferatu this year?”
“1998, love. Remember? I was Nosferatu, and you were my busty victim covered in little bite marks. Ugh, in that sexy gray dress with the lace…” He rolled around and howled.
“Get a room, or a dog house,” Sarah laughed.
“Speaking of getting a room, who are you bringing to the Halloween party this year, sis?” Sammy asked, propping himself up on one elbow.
Sarah scrunched her face and shrugged.
“Nobody currently in my sights, but Gloria is planning a ladies-only skate trip, so maybe I can rustle one up.”
“Ladies only or lesbos only?” Sammy asked, grabbing my ankle and trying to lick it.
“Stop that,” I said, “down, Fido.”
“All dikes. I hope, anyway,” she said, pushing a finger into one of the rubber baby’s bloodshot eyeballs. “Last year she brought her very straight sister on our ski trip, and I spent half a night coming on to her before someone broke the news. Usually I have a pretty good sense for these things, but damn, the woman is almost six feet tall and has her hair buzzed clear off.”
“But tell us about the skate part,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Roller skates. Yes, it’s as ridiculous as it sounds. This is what happens when you become friends with a woman who has spent her entire adult life as an event coordinator on a cruise ship.”
“Ah, the Glorious Gloria. She is quite a trip,” Sammy said. He crawled to the bed and climbed on next to me. “Why don’t you go out with her? She’s got those dreamy blue eyes you love so much.”
“I prefer brown eyes,” she said, leaning over to flick his ear.
He rolled off the bed with a thump.
“Don’t go there, Sarah-Bo-Berra, or you’ll start an ear-flicking feud they’ll write about in history books,” Sammy called from the side of the bed. He dove out of sight and shot a rubber band at Sarah, who batted it away.
“Corrie, how exactly do you manage a two-toddler home?” She threw a pillow at Sammy, and he caught it mid-air, flinging it back where it struck her square in the face.
I laughed and shook my head.
“It’s quite nice, actually. Every day is a play-date for Isis.”
“CORRIE.” I popped open my eyes to find Sammy inches from my face, his eyes wild and his hair standing on end as if he’d been running his fingers through it.
“What? Isis?” I sat up, and pain leapt through my right shoulder blade and snaked up my neck. I had an instant headache.
I looked around and realized why. I had fallen asleep on the floor of the study. I pressed my hands into the hardwood and tilted my neck to my left shoulder.
“Ouch, oh shit, ugh.”
“Here,” Sammy massaged my neck, searching my face as if I’d fallen.
Had I fallen?
“How did I get in here?” I asked him, rewinding back to the night before when we’d climbed into bed together. We had made love, and I’d fallen asleep tucked in the crook of Sammy’s arm.
“I was wondering the same thing. I practically went mad trying to find you. I’ve been calling your name for ten minutes.”
“Really?”
He helped me up, and I lumbered from the room feeling like I’d aged a decade in one night.
I sat heavily at the kitchen counter, sensing Sammy’s gaze.
“What?” I asked him.
“What? I just found you asleep on the floor in the study, and you have no memory of how you got there.”
“Coffee would probably help.” I winked at him, but he didn’t smile. “I sleepwalked. What’s the big deal?”
He pressed his mouth in a line and turned, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove with a huff.
“I’m sorry, why are you mad at me right now?” I asked, unable to keep the irritation from my voice. I would need a visit to the chiropractor to get this kink out of my neck. “I’m the one who slept on the floor.”
He turned and braced his hands on the counter.
“I’m n
ot mad at you, and I’m sorry it’s coming off that way. I’m worried about you.”
“Sammy, people sleepwalk all the time. I knew a girl in college who wrote her entire thesis on the subject. It’s not exactly a phenomenon.”
The cold light of morning barely illuminated the kitchen, but I could see the weariness plain in Sammy’s face.
Was he overreacting? Or was I under-reacting?
He ground the coffee, and when he turned back his features had softened.
“Corrie, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you okay?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We had a great day yesterday. Why are you ruining it over something so stupid?”
He took my hands across the counter and squeezed.
“Yesterday was great. I loved it, it felt like old times.”
I frowned.
“Old times? What are new times, then?”
He stayed put, gazing into my face.
“You’ve seemed different since we moved here. You sleep a lot and forget stuff.”
I bit my cheek, my hands tightening around the glass of water Sammy had set in front of me.
“I sleep a lot?”
“You never took naps before. Now you take them every day, and after you wake up you seem wonky, like you’re in a trance.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, standing abruptly and nearly knocking my chair over backwards. It wobbled and landed back on its feet.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
I stormed from the kitchen, refusing to look back. As I walked up the stairs, I rubbed my neck and tried desperately to remember when I had woken in the night and made my way to the study.
CHAPTER 19
Now
Sarah
“Will?”
The young man spun around. His eyes had the wild look of someone getting ready to run.
“Please,” Sarah held up her hands. “I just want to talk to you.”
He remained still for another moment, his hand held midair.
“What do you want?” he asked finally.
“I want to talk to you about Kerry Manor.”
He took a step away.
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