The Fourth Power

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Exhaustion tried to settle over her shoulders. Heather hated the not knowing. Part of her wished she could run away, and the other part wanted to bury her head in work and not think. She wanted to go from task to task to task, checking them off her notebook checklist.

  “I don’t feel like there is a presence,” Vivien said. “Not that it means anything. Heather, do you sense anyone with us?”

  “No.” Heather gave one last look around the room. The temperature was normal, and nothing formed in the dust. She joined Lorna and Vivien on the landing. “All I felt earlier was a chill. That’s why I asked you both to help me try to locate it. If a ghost has been stirred from the construction, I want to know what we’re dealing with here. Maybe we can send it on its way.”

  Vivien had the messenger bag open. Julia’s séance book had been wrapped in blue cloth and was sitting in the middle of the floor. Vivien began peeling back the edges of the material.

  The handmade, three inches thick tome had been part of Heather’s inheritance, one she only learned about recently. Julia had hidden it underneath the stage at the theater. The padded leather cover was embossed with a circular pattern of symbols. Three of the symbols matched their three rings. She wasn’t sure what they meant. If she had to guess, Vivien’s would stand for her intuitiveness, Lorna’s would have something to do with the fact she was a healer and a finder, and Heather’s would have to be the magic she inherited from her grandmother.

  Vivien smoothed the cloth underneath the book. Lorna had drawn the same pattern on the fabric that was on the book cover. As the material lay on the floor, it gave a larger séancing area. The first time they’d tried, the ghost had been trapped in the circle on top of the book and couldn’t move around. Julia had suggested a larger space might make spirits more agreeable since no one enjoyed being pinned down.

  Vivien set four blue candles around the edge of the material before anointing them with basil oil from a small vial. Heather wasn’t sure why it worked, but the blue color helped them amplify their messages to the dead when doing a séance, and the basil oil provided protection. And, honestly, after they’d accidentally summoned a demon, they could use all the protection they could get. The energy from bad-tempered spirits could open the veil just enough to let demonic figures through with them.

  Lorna went to the food bag and pulled out two plastic containers. She lifted the first and said, “Cupcakes for after.”

  “Yum,” Heather answered.

  Lorna put the cupcakes back inside, then lifted the second container, and said, “Blueberry scones for now. Since blueberries are supposed to help against psychic attacks, I thought it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Gimme,” Vivien said, reaching up from her place on the floor.

  Lorna opened the container and took out a napkin wrapped scone.

  “Heather, I think you should consider living with us. Lorna is the best roommate in the world.” Vivien unwrapped her scone and took a bite. With a full mouth, she said, “She comes with so many snacks. If she moves in here, I’m so coming too.”

  “What about Troy?” Heather asked. She sat across from Vivien. The hard floor wasn’t the most comfortable position, but she had other things on her mind.

  “He’d be invited to visit.” Vivien chuckled. “Hos before bros.”

  “Um, I don’t think that works for us.” Lorna handed a scone to Heather before taking one for herself and returning the container to the bag.

  “Chicks before dicks,” Vivien amended, toasting her scone in the air.

  “Yes, much classier,” Lorna drawled sarcastically. She remained standing. “Thank you.”

  “Ass before class,” Vivien said.

  “Time to take your rhyming dictionary away,” Lorna stated.

  “Carbs before anything else,” Heather said, biting into the scone. She instantly moaned. “Omigod, Lorna, you need to open a restaurant. In my kitchen.”

  “Yes!” Vivien exclaimed. “I’ll buy a space for you, and you can run it however you want. But I want a reserved corner booth.”

  Vivien owned several fast food businesses in North Carolina. With her psychic abilities, she had a natural talent for picking winning locations and loyal staff members.

  Lorna shook her head. “I don’t think it would be fun to cook for strangers on that scale. I like cooking for friends and family. Someone once told me that the surest way to kill your love of something is to turn it into a job.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. I love restoring homes like this one.” Heather thought about it for a moment. “I maybe don’t love being a landlord sometimes.”

  “More pizza box hoarders?” Lorna asked.

  “Oh, don’t remind me. That poor man. I don’t think I told you both what happened. The cleaner I hired to help him had a family emergency out of town. She forgot to tell me she was quitting.” Heather sighed. Mr. Willis was an elderly tenant who lived on a fixed income. When left alone, he didn’t take the best care of himself. “And, of course, he didn’t want to complain.”

  “I was only joking,” Lorna said, sounding concerned. “Did he fall into old habits?”

  Heather nodded. “Yep. Twenty-eight empty pizza boxes stacked in the basement and counting. It’s all the man will eat when no one is there to cook for him. I’ve got a help wanted ad for someone to take over cleaning and cooking.”

  Heather didn’t make money off that particular property. After taxes and paying for the cleaning service, the place barely broke even. She would never tell Mr. Willis that. Why should she? He’d worked hard his entire life and had great pride in taking care of himself. She hoped that if she needed help when she was older, someone would be able to give it.

  “Want me to help interview?” Vivien asked.

  “Yes, please. Your insight would be a great help.” Heather nodded, taking another bite. “Mm, these are amazing, Lorna.”

  “Thank you.” Lorna opened the container and lifted it. “Want another?”

  “Yes.” Vivien snagged one even though she was offering them to Heather.

  Heather grabbed a second.

  “Give me his address. I’ll run meals by there before work each day until you can find someone,” Lorna offered.

  “That would be amazing,” Heather said.

  “Oh, I brought pillows for us to sit on just in case. I’ll be right back.” Lorna went down the stairs.

  Vivien finished her second scone and leaned forward to open the front cover of Julia’s book. The insides were handwritten in beautiful calligraphy, from the title page that read “Warrick” to the lists of names and dates logging the séances Heather’s grandmother had performed.

  Vivien stopped at the séance listings. “These are always so sad.” She ran her finger over the decorative border lining the page and read aloud, “December 9, 1928, Fiona O’Leary, six dollars to contact three-year-old daughter Mirabella. Not earthbound.”

  “I know. So many deaths,” Heather agreed.

  “When I touch the book, it’s almost like I can sense all of them,” Vivien said. “It’s getting stronger. I thought my psychic tendencies would have leveled off by now, but ever since I found this ring, they just keep growing.”

  Vivien tried to keep her tone light, but Heather could detect her concern. The first time they’d looked inside, Vivien had called it a book of death filled with the pain of tremendous loss.

  “It’s the same for me. Ghosts are getting louder too.” Heather touched the ring on her forefinger. “When I took the ring off, it did become harder for me to hear Julia. If it’s too much, maybe we take the rings off and put them away.”

  “We can’t, not yet,” Lorna appeared, holding three pillows. She shared a look with Vivien. “Not until we help you, Heather, like you helped us.”

  Heather knew her friends thought there was something they could do for her, but there wasn’t. Not when it came to her pain. She had tried to explain it, but the depth of her convictions never seemed to make it all the way through to them
. They understood, felt where she was coming from, but they held out hope that the path would reveal itself.

  “I think I forgot the lighter,” Vivien said. She flipped through the pages of the book until she reached the list of incantations. She pointed at one and said, “In case anyone needs the refresher.”

  “I’m pretty sure we won’t need it.” Lorna dropped a pillow on the floor near her feet and then handed the other two over to her friends.

  Heather slipped the cushion under her butt and nodded in appreciation. “Thanks.”

  “You take such good care of us,” Vivien added, with a grin.

  “I do my best.” Lorna moved the food bag out of the way and set it beside the wall in between two of the bedroom doors.

  “You are the best,” Heather corrected. She turned her attention to the book and inhaled a deep, slow breath. “Okay, let’s get to it. Here goes nothing. I’m ready if you are.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Our intent is to talk to any spirits inhabiting this home,” Heather stated, stretching her hands toward Lorna and Vivien. They formed a circle around the book. She kept her eyes on the candles, wondering if they would light themselves. As if answering her silent question, the wicks caught in a small burst of flames the second they joined hands.

  “That will never get old,” Vivien whispered.

  Energy flowed through Heather from their clasped hands as their magic built. Lorna’s and Vivien’s emotions mingled with her own as they joined in spirit. The tingling caused her hair to lift from her shoulders, sending a shiver of goosebumps over her entire body.

  Vivien always had a sense of excitement and enthusiasm in whatever she did. That did not change with séancing. If anything, Vivien seemed worried about Lorna. After being married for twenty years and a mother of three kids, Lorna had developed the tendency to put everyone else’s feelings and needs before her own. Out of the three of them, she’d be the one to say yes to something even though she wasn’t convinced it was a good idea.

  The last time they’d tried this Lorna had been more hesitant, but since seeing Vivien make peace with her dead husband, Lorna had become much more comfortable in what they were doing. However, the underlying fear was still there.

  Heather knew what they would feel from her. It was the same every time. They focused on the hard knot in her chest that formed a thick shell around her pain. Since that is what was always the most prevalent inside her, that is what they sensed. It eased a little when they shared the burden of it with her, but she didn’t want to let go. That pain represented her love for her son. There was nothing that could compare to such a loss.

  The overhead lights flickered as expected. Ghosts needed to borrow the energy to manifest, and they would take it however they could—whether it was a group of highly emotional people during a séance or the city’s power grid.

  “Ready?” Vivien whispered.

  Lorna and Heather nodded.

  Together they said, “We open the door between two worlds to call forth any spirits inhabiting this home. Come back from the grave so that we may hear. Come back from the grave and show yourself to us so that all may see. Come back from the grave and answer for what you have done so that you may be judged.”

  Tiny lights formed over the book like fireflies, swarming around. The ring on her finger sent a pulse of energy through her, which then traveled to her friends through their connected hands. The lights multiplied in number, appearing trapped within transparent feet. The shoes looked to belong to a man, as did the trousers.

  The lights suddenly veered off course and shot to the side where they multiplied and clustered. A second figure began to form. The lights shot to the side again, illuminating a third person. They were all contained in the cloth circle.

  “What’s happening?” Lorna asked.

  Heather shook her head to indicate she didn’t know, unable to answer as she watched.

  “I think we got three…” Vivien gasped as the light broke off again. “No four spirits.”

  The lights broke off yet another time.

  “Five,” Lorna whispered. “There’s not enough room for them all.”

  “Six,” Vivien said. “This is getting crowded.”

  Lorna jerked her hands from the circle as a spirit appeared close to where she was sitting. They’d learned that once they started, their hands did not need to be joined for the séance to continue. Simply letting go would not send the spirits away.

  The light from the candles replicated, becoming trapped beneath the ghosts’ surfaces. It reflected up their bodies, revealing four men and two women.

  “Oh, crap,” Vivien whispered, crawling around the circle to be closer to Heather. Lorna appeared next to her other side. “That’s a lot of ghosts—”

  The lights separated again and began bouncing off the invisible boundary of the circle. The spirits started to move, fighting their crowded space. Hundreds of tiny lights became thousands, shining over the dim room. The lights stopped flickering as the ghosts took over.

  Suddenly, a single speck of light shot out of the circle. It instantly multiplied to reveal a spirit outside of the containment area before breaking off to do it again. As the ghosts brightened, they turned their attention toward the three women.

  “Shit,” Vivien whispered. “They’ve escaped.”

  “What do we do?” Lorna asked.

  “Ten, eleven, twelve—there are so many of them,” Vivien said. “Thirteen.”

  “Where did they come from?” Lorna asked.

  “So many… Why didn’t I feel them?” Heather added, half in awe and half in fear. She always assumed her strong gifts meant she knew when a spirit was nearby. Never had she imagined so many ghosts could be around her when she didn’t feel them.

  Vivien stood, pulling Heather to her feet. Heather, in turn, pulled Lorna. They backed toward the bathroom.

  “Spirits you have been found pure. We release you into the light. Go in peace and love,” Heather commanded.

  In response, a few of the lights danced upward like the dying embers of a bonfire. However, even more remained. Some of the spirits looked angry. Others looked confused. The annoying woman who’d asked for her help pointed at Heather and laughed.

  “Spirits you have been found pure,” Vivien stated loudly. “We release you into the light. Go in peace and love.”

  Another one left like dying embers.

  “Lorna, you try,” Heather said, hoping they’d listen to her.

  “Spirits you have been found pure. We release you into the light. Go in peace and love,” Lorna ordered.

  Two more left, but that meant a half dozen spirits remained.

  “Shit,” Vivien stated, grabbing Heather’s arm and squeezing tight. “Shit.”

  “Not helping,” Heather countered.

  Lorna grabbed Heather’s hand and held it.

  “Shit,” Vivien swore.

  “What do we—” Lorna began.

  “Jan!” Martin’s shout came from downstairs. “January, are you in here?”

  As if breaking the spell, the ghosts scattered and disappeared. The overhead lights came back on, and the candles blew out. The three women stood clustered together.

  “What was that?” Vivien demanded.

  “Who is that yelling?” Lorna asked at the same time.

  The sound of heavy footsteps came up the stairs. Martin appeared in sweatpants, a worn t-shirt, and sneakers. His dark hair was wet and slicked back on his head away from his face.

  “Jan, are…?” Martin’s eyes stopped on the cloth and books before lifting to meet Heather’s. “Oh, I, uh…” He slowed his steps as he again looked down at the fabric. “I’m sorry. I’m looking for my daughter. She ran off, and I had a feeling she might be… Her bike is by the back door, and the house was open. She likes the tower. Have you seen her—what is this?”

  His confusion got the better of him as he pointed at the floor.

  “Dad!” Jan cried, running down from the third floor.
Her little feet sounded on the steps. She rushed at him, throwing her arms around him as if terrified.

  “Where did she come from?” Lorna whispered. “How much did she hear?”

  Heather stiffened. Was Jan in the house the whole time? She must have been. They would have seen her pass by to the third floor. Had she heard what they had been saying about her?

  “How much did she see?” Vivien added, just as softly.

  “Shit.” Now it was Heather’s turn to cuss. “I don’t know.”

  “What is going on here?” Martin held his daughter close. “What is all this stuff?”

  “Girls night slumber party,” Vivien explained, hardly convincing.

  “Hi, Martin, we haven’t met.” Lorna held out her hand. “I’m a friend of Heather’s, Lorna Addams.” She smiled at Jan, who didn’t turn to look. “And you must be January. Such a pretty name.”

  Martin didn’t take her offered hand but instead nodded as he kept his hands on his daughter’s back. Lorna dropped the offer with a tiny lift of her fingers to acknowledge his nod.

  “This is Vivien,” Lorna introduced, trying to sound friendly.

  “We’ve met,” Martin said.

  “We’re…” Heather tried to think of a convincing lie.

  “They took them.” Jan’s shoulders shook as if she were about to cry.

  “We took what?” Vivien asked.

  “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have broken in,” Martin said, ushering his daughter toward the stairs. When she didn’t cooperate, he lifted her in his arms and carried her. “She knows better. I’ll have a talk with her. It won’t happen again.”

  “It’s all right,” Heather said, following him. Well, actually, it wasn’t all right for Jan to be roaming a remodel by herself at night or running away from home. Martin had his hands full.

  When they reached the first floor, he set Jan down and walked her toward the door.

  “They took my friends,” Jan told her dad. Tears had rolled down her cheeks when she looked at Heather in anger.

  “Martin, wait,” Heather insisted. If the girl overheard them, she needed to know how much. “What’s she talking about?”