“Yeah, the cost of living is killer,” I mumble as we enter the second-floor apartment. The living room furniture has all been pushed close to the walls, and there’s a card table and two folding chairs in the center of the Persian rug. Jonah motions me to sit, and I’m vaguely wondering if this guy is going to murder me when he hands over a glossy brochure.
BANISH GHOSTS WITH KINDNESS,it says in a serif font over a soothing pink-and-white gradient background. I wonder if he used Canva Premium.
I flip it open and there’s a clip-art picture of a priest wielding a cross with a red X over it, alongside a list of benefits to their cruelty-free approach. “Other exorcisms are cruel, then?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, “are you kidding? We’ve heard horrible reports. The process can be super painful for the ghost.”
“H-how…did you hear that?” I stammer, but he slams a hand on the table, and I startle.
“So! We have several pricing plans. You can pay up front or in installments.”
“We take Klarna,” another voice says from behind me, and I turn around to see the woman from the Nicaragua photo wearing a white linen dress, her flaxen hair tied up in a bun. She settles in next to Jonah. “I’m Krystal. Hi. Tell us about the scene of the haunting.”
I feel like I’m sitting across from Ed and Lorraine Warren, reimagined by Goop.
I slide my phone to the center of the table. “The ghost is in here. In Slack.”
Jonah’s eyebrows shoot up. “The whole server?”
“It seems, um—” I clear my throat. “Localized? To one channel. Specifically, the DM with myself.”
“Interesting,” he murmurs. “Well. New situation, old methods. Let’s give it a shot.”
He motions to Krystal, and she takes some items out from below the table. A wooden box, a silver lighter, a long, shallowceramic dish. (Is that…an Urban Outfitters price tag on the side?) She sets the sage burning with the lighter, lets her eyelids droop mostly closed, and begins to chant.
At first it just seems embarrassing. I can’t believe I sat in traffic on the 405 for this. But then there’s a piercing scream—Mom’s voice, unmistakably, louder than when she discovered I’d broken curfew, more bloodcurdling than when I cracked her favorite vase. It sounds like she’s being torn limb from limb.
“STOP!” I yell, jumping to my feet. “STOP IT!”
Jonah looks scandalized. “Once we interrupt the ritual, we have to start it all over again!”
I stomp my foot. “Can’t you hear that?”
They’re both eyeing me like I’ve lost my mind.
I snatch my phone back and press it to my chest. “You’re hurting her.”
Krystal extinguishes the burning sage. “You won’t get your deposit back.”
“Such bullshit!” I yell, sounding so much like Mom when she’s mad.
I’m down the stairs in the blink of an eye, out the front door, and running along the palm-tree-lined street, typing frantically, barely watching where I’m going.
ruby.ocampo:
Are you okay mom? mom? are you there?
All I can think isI’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,my heartbeat and footfalls thumping in time with those words.
sampaguita72:
That was awful! So smoky
I couldn’t breathe!
Did I ever tell you I think I’m allergic to sage?
ruby.ocampo:
