I nodded. “Let’s suss things out, see what you can see, Savvy.”
Riley gave her shoulders a squeeze, then she stood and I followed. “Right this way,” I said with my arm outstretched.
We exited the living room and I peered downstairs first to check that Mr. Jameson couldn’t see us, but the vacuum cleaner was still roaring. I tentatively placed my hand on the doorknob and twisted it, holding firmly in case they decided to fling it open and closed and whack me in the face. Creaks sounded, from both the door and the floor as we entered.
“Whoa,” said Savvy. “I’m getting a sense of déjà vu.”
“You’ve seen the room before?”
“No, just the teacups and people, but it feels familiar.” Her gaze moved to the side table with the tea set. “Oh. There it is!”
We stepped cautiously into the center of the room. “See anything else?” I whispered.
She shook her head.
“Maybe I should say something,” I suggested. “They already know me.” I cleared my throat. “It’s me again, and this is my sister, Savannah. We’d like to ask you to please stop causing trouble for Damon and Lara. Oh, and I know your name is Audrey.”
Savannah gasped. I followed her wide-eyed gaze toward the bookcase. “I see them,” she whispered, then she leaned close to my ear. “Gee, the older woman needs a bit of moisturizer.”
“I heard that!”
Now I gasped. Oh, great start, Savvy, ridiculing her aging skin. Good way to get her on our side. Then again, Audrey was dead, not aging, so no amount of moisturizer could help her now and I was sure she realized that.
“Um, hi. It would be, um, really great if you could leave the Jamesons to live here in peace,” I said. “Thanks.” I could be an expert negotiator.
“It’s not right,” the voice said. “It belongs to us.”
Ohh, déjà vu for me now.
“It used to belong to you.” Savannah stepped closer to the bookcase.
I smiled. Exactly like she’d said in my vision, which meant that next there would be a…
Thump!
I flinched at the sound that came from the wall beside the bookcase.
“There’s no need to get aggro and hit things,” said Savannah. She would make an expert child care worker. Or stressed-out mom.
The other woman and the man mumbled something.
“Hi there,” said Savannah. “What do you two think about your sister’s childish behavior, hmm?” Her hands were on her hips. “Or are you going to let her ruin these nice people’s lives?” She held her arms out.
“Our sister is right,” said the man in his gravelly voice. Mandy’s great-great-great-grandfather. I bet from his voice that he had been a heavy smoker. I wondered if he’d had a hidden cigarette stash that his child or children had tried to find. I wondered if he’d liked to place a few bets. I wondered if Mandy’s behavior was all down to this man, and her father was simply a byproduct of his genetics and upbringing. “We want them out of our house.”
Savannah eyed me with a worried expression. Then she trembled and leaned backward a little, her eyes blinking rapidly. “Savvy?”
She ignored me.
“If you know what’s good for you, little girl, you will take yourself out of this room now, and take that wretched family with you!”
I grabbed Savannah’s hand. The voice was right in front of her, of us. The woman was clearly trying to intimidate her.
Savannah gulped and leaned close to me. “I liked talking to Riley’s dad’s ghost better,” she said.
“Go, get out!” Audrey shouted.
Stomp, stomp, stomp! The floor actually shook a little. That hadn’t been in my vision. Then again, movie previews didn’t show the whole movie—that was why it was called a preview. Our visions were the same.
We huddled behind the couch. “It’s like they don’t realize they’re ghosts or something,” Savannah said. “I mean, do they think they can just live here and pay bills and keep up the gardens and cook meals and have parties and all that, like real people?”
“We ARE real people!” Audrey’s voice boomed and I put my spare hand on my ear.
Savannah let go of me and stood. Her jaw stiffened and she stepped forward. “WERE! You WERE real people, and now you’re dead!” She jabbed her finger in the air toward the people I couldn’t see. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. You need to get the hell off your freaking high horse and act your goddamn age! Whatever that is now.” She blew a bit of hair off her forehead with a confident puff.
Silence.
I so wished in that moment I could have seen the woman’s face. I bet she was more offended by Savannah saying “goddamn” than by giving her a reminder that she was dead and had no right to take control of this house anymore. I bet she was adjusting her glasses and cardigan and sporting a stern, closed-lipped expression of distaste.
Savannah slid a glance my way. “I wish you could see her face.”
I chuckled.
“This is nothing to joke about!” said Audrey.
“You’re right,” said Savannah. “It isn’t. And that’s why you need to stop scaring the Jamesons.”
It hit me then that the silence after Savannah had told her off was also present downstairs. No more vacuuming. Could Mr. Jameson hear us? Or had he just finished?
Footsteps sounded outside. Oh no.
What would we say if he barged in? “Hi, we were just prying and checking out all your expensive stuff in this room while the others watch a movie. We’re also talking to the ghosts haunting your house. Mr. Jameson, meet Audrey. She’s a real sweetie!”
I was about to formulate a better response, or text Damon to come out and cover for us, but I heard his voice outside the door.
“Dad, what are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s been a while since the sitting room had a good clean, no time like the present.” I heard something thump on the floor. He had the vacuum cleaner ready and was about to come in. If only he could suck the ghosts out of the house and save us the hassle.
“I’ll do it!” Damon’s voice went high-pitched.
“But your friends are here. Go hang out, I’ll just—”
“Wait!” Uh-oh. Maybe now his dad would think that Riley and Savannah had come in here to make out or something. “Was that Mom? I thought I heard her drop something.”
Silence.
“Here, I’ll take the vacuum cleaner and once our movie is over I’ll give the room a good clean. All of them, while I’m at it! You need to take a break. You work so hard, Dad.” His voice was mostly genuine, I knew he meant those last few words.
“Rightio, then. Who am I to say no to a willing household helper?”
Footsteps descended and faded away.
Phew!
My phone pinged: All ok in there?
I replied with yep and turned back to Savannah, who was looking at the bookcase. “Now, where were we?” she said. “Oh yes, you were saying how you’re going to move on to the afterlife and stop scaring the Jamesons.” She gave a firm nod. My sister was so kickass. She would totally be able to pull off a superhero costume, unlike awkward little me.
“How do you think we feel?” said Audrey. “Our home, taken right from under our feet, strangers living among us and making themselves at home! If our descendants can’t live here then nobody can. This house was supposed to be passed on through the generations. We made a promise. Our father’s dying wish, and his death, will not be in vain.” She spoke with authority.
Savannah and I were silent. I was pretty sure we were both thinking the same thing: Will our father’s death be in vain?
Who could blame them for wanting to keep a promise to their dad? They might be annoying, potentially dangerous, negative spirits, but they were just trying to be loyal to their family. In their own, warped way.
“Our dad died too,” Savannah said softly. “And guess what? I almost died as well. But us, here”—she waved her hands around to indicate the people
in the house—“we’re all alive, and life is for the living. Would your dad want you to be terrorizing these innocent people out of their home?”
“Our father would want us to protect the legacy he built for us.”
Although I couldn’t see the ghost’s body language, I was sure she was crossing her arms about now.
Savannah crossed hers. “Do you have any idea what these people are dealing with?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly, but to no response. “Mrs. Jameson is dying. Dying, do you get it? Do you really want to deny her children any more time to spend with her peacefully?” She stepped closer, as though mimicking Audrey’s intimidation from before. “And not only that. Lara, the girl, has the same disease. She doesn’t need her precious youth taken up with stress and trauma from you, you…ghosties!” She flicked her hands toward them like they were annoying bugs flying around. “You three need to let go. Let go, and let them live in peace in this house. Let their family create a new legacy.”
Savannah turned back to me and led me to the door.
“Shouldn’t we wait to hear what they say?” I whispered.
She simply opened the door and practically pushed me out. When she closed the door behind us, she said, “Let’s do it. Let’s get those herbs and smudge these stubborn fools outta here.”
• • •
After we’d filled the others in about what had happened, we gathered our supplies and planned our strategy. No more talking to them. Just do the ritual, stay focused, and ignore them.
Ritual. Did this make us like witches now or something?
“Do you need any…assistance?” asked Damon.
“I hope not. I don’t want to go in there,” said Lara. I didn’t blame her.
I shook my head. “We’ll be right.”
I hoped.
As we walked once again toward the sitting room, I said to Savvy, “I still don’t understand how you can see and hear ghosts, but I can only hear them. At least, I can now. I mean, I know I’ve got the gift of sound, but you don’t.”
She shrugged. “Well, the ghosts are in the present, whereas the predictions when we connect are for things that happen at another time. And I was the one in the coma. The delta waves might be stronger in me or something. And Mom could talk with and see spirits in the past, so it could even be a separate ability I inherited from her.”
“True. Well, I’m glad you’re here.” I paused outside the door.
My sister looked at me with a small smile. Then she slid one arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “I’m glad you’re here too.” She pulled back. “Anyway, this is actually kinda fun. They could totally make a TV show out of us, don’t you think? Crime-fighting, mystery-solving, ghostbusting, fortune-telling sisters. Emmy Award, here we come!”
I smiled widely. I loved how she was able to lift my spirits when I needed it. Here’s hoping she could help me lift these spirits, or at least their negative energies, out of this room and out of this house.
Savannah opened the door while I cupped the abalone shell containing the dried herbs in my hands. We slipped inside and closed the door, and my sister lit a match.
Déjà vu again.
She held it near the herbs and they caught alight. For a split second she stiffened. So did I. Seeing flames would probably always remind us of the damage the arsonist had caused in town not too long ago. And not just physical damage. I blew on the flames and they went out, replaced by a smoldering gray smoke. It didn’t fade like a match after being blown out. It lingered, like a shadow, following us wherever we walked. Or leading us, more like it.
“What’s that smell?”
I swallowed, ignoring Audrey, as did Savannah. The smell was exactly as Sasha had described, and I too felt a vague sense of a memory from long ago. Savannah fanned the smoke around the room with the feather. Mom had said the smudging supplies represented the four elements—the feather was air, the shell was from water, the herbs were earth, and the flames were, of course, fire. As the smoke floated and wafted into every crevice of the room, it occurred to me that Damon and Lara’s parents might smell the herbs. Would Mr. Jameson come upstairs again and ask what we were doing? He might think we were experimenting with some kind of substance. Which, technically, we were.
“What are you doing?” Audrey asked.
Ignore, ignore.
“We’re not going anywhere, you know, we’re just…”
Her voice faltered. Her siblings spoke, whispering to each other.
Ignore, ignore. Waft, waft, waft.
For a moment I had an idea of what the heightened sense of smell must be like for Sasha, as the strong aroma took over the room. It was all-encompassing, a little distracting even, as snippets of unstable emotional sensations seemed to override my thoughts. Maybe that was why she always gave up so easily on anything that required much mental effort. Smell was strongly linked to emotions, and strong smells probably meant strong emotions. My poor sister was probably having a constant battle between her emotions and thoughts. It could also explain why she often pushed important issues under the carpet and preferred not to dwell on things. It was her way of coping with the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of smells and emotions overpowering her consciousness.
I felt the need to say something, to add to the power of the smudging process, to indicate our purpose here. I said the first thing that popped into my mind, even if it sounded ridiculous. “As the white sage and mugwort cleanse this room, may this house become free of negative energy and become a safe, peaceful living environment for Mr. and Mrs. Jameson, Damon, and Lara.”
Savannah stopped moving and looked at me curiously, as though she hadn’t expected me to say that, then gave a nod. “Yeah. What she said.” She continued wafting the dwindling smoke.
The siblings mumbled and whispered, but it was barely audible. The volume switch was being turned down, and hopefully, so was the negativity switch. As Mom had said, this wouldn’t necessarily get rid of spirits, but could prevent them from having a negative impact on the living. And right now, that was as good as we could hope for.
After a while the smoke died away and all that was left was the scent of the herbs. And was it just me, or did the room feel different? “Can you see them?” I whispered.
“No,” she whispered back. “Do you think they’re gone?”
“Maybe just the negative parts of them. If that makes sense,” I said. “Could this really be it? Could this really be all that we had to do?”
She shrugged. “Time will tell.”
We walked slowly to the door, not wanting to disrupt the peace we had somehow created, and exited the room. The door closed with a light click, and I released a breath as my chest relaxed.
Savannah and I stood there in the hall, unsure what to do next. Had we done enough? Would it work? I recalled the visions we’d had, trying to remember if everything had been accounted for and come to light. Lara hadn’t cried—at least, we hadn’t heard or seen her cry. Maybe it wouldn’t happen anymore. I hoped. Just like I hoped I’d never ever hear that gut-wrenching scream.
Chapter 21
“Argh!” Mom shoved the envelope she’d retrieved from the mailbox into her handbag. She’d already opened it. “Damn electricity bills, why do they have to be so high?” I flashed her an innocent expression on behalf of my four electricity-consuming sisters and me.
“Half the bill is probably from Sasha’s hair-drying, hair-straightening, hair-curling, fancy electrical equipment.” She nudged me and winked. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
I opened the front door and stepped inside the house. Mom had just dropped Lara home after our friend-date to the movies. Or should I say expedition? It had been mounted with such planning and strategy that I needed a vacation to recover from it. Having said that, it was fun, and I enjoyed her company now that I’d gotten to know her better and understood her ways. She’d kept asking me questions about my abilities, and even took notes. I think she wanted me to be her guinea pig, something to analyze
and research once our science project had been completed. I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked if she could hook me and my sisters up to electrodes and study our brain activity. In fact, that would be really cool. Maybe one day in the future we would get a chance to do that.
“What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” Mom asked Tamara. Her foodie daughter slaved away, consuming even more electricity.
“Curried chicken, vegetables, and rice. Can’t you tell by the smell?”
“I can,” said Sasha.
“I can too, but I just wanted to say that phrase,” said Mom.
Sasha gasped. “You know who else is good-lookin’?” She peered up from her phone. “The guy who has just sent me a friend request on Facebook, woohoo!” She shoved her screen at Savannah.
Savannah, who was doing wall push-ups on the other side of the room, paused to have a look. “I think pink is definitely Taylor’s color,” she said, then resumed her exercise.
Sasha whacked her shoulder. “That’s his sister. He’s the one on the left.”
“I know, I know, but his hair is getting kinda long—it’s hard to tell.” She grinned.
“Is this that boy you like?” asked Mom.
“Well, I don’t know yet. I’m just sussing him out.”
Which meant: Yes, I’m totally into him and already know his weekly schedule to assist with my stalking—excuse me, sussing out—and have already checked out his public photos and posts on Facebook, his comments on posts from our mutual friends, and now that we’re friends, I’m going to scroll through his entire profile from the activation of his Facebook account onward so I can find out absolutely everything there is to know about him. It might take me about three hours. Minimum.
“Friend request accepted, ta-da!” She pressed the screen, then sashayed off with a giggle, no doubt to begin scrolling through Taylor’s profile.
“How was the movie?” asked Tamara.
“Great. We’re going again in a couple of months. Lara wants to set up a regular movie afternoon.”
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