The second way is toactually do a séance. You literally let the Dead possess you.
Possession is more difficult than it sounds. It often requires smuggling organic material into the Afterlife.
Bones, hair, blood, anything that came from a living thing can be used as a conduit for the Dead to enter the Beforedeath. At least, in a limited capacity. Not even a full skeleton could resurrect someone, but you could become a ghost for a short while to pass along a message to a loved one or act as a poltergeist to scare off the family living in your old house. Or, in certain situations, you could possess someone.
You might think this sounds pretty limiting, as mostly, living people are still attached to their body parts. But we’re losing parts of ourselves all the time, and not just metaphorically. Shed skin cells, loose hairs, menstrual blood—the list goes on. Luckily, most of these aren’t enough material for any real magic.
Bones, on the other hand…
Baby teeth are the easiest to come by, as they shed naturally. But if someone is desperate, or deeply unscrupulous, they’ll just as soon take an arm or a leg. It’s all pretty nefarious, and this is coming from someone with the moral compass of a stray balloon.
And yes, I did give Vinny a baby tooth, but I have my reasons.And those reasons basically boil down to: I’m desperate and deeply unscrupulous.
A gasp from the medium draws me back to the séance.
“I think I feel something,” she says.
The table starts to rattle and the crystal ball on the table starts to glow. The others gasp as the medium’s eyes flash open and they’re a milky white. Her body seizes, and she stares blankly at the ceiling, mouth agape, arms hanging at her side.
It’s a little over-the-top, if I’m honest, but who am I to judge?
She draws in a croaking breath as her body relaxes and she takes in those seated around her, eyes now clear.
“Gracie?” the medium says, her voice now deeper. “Gracie, can you hear me?” Her accent is no longer New Orleans but Long Island.
“Carl?” the woman next to the medium asks, squeezing her hand. “Is that you?”
The medium frowns. “Who else would it be? What other dead people are you talking to?”
Gracie scowls.
“Is that you?” the medium mutters. “What kind of question is that?”
“Seriously, Carl, we’re going to do this now?”
The medium gestures wildly. “I’m just saying, you only got a few minutes to ask your questions, and you waste one of them asking if it’s me?”
“Fine,” Gracie says. “Here’s a question. Where’d you put the clicker for the upstairs TV?”
“That’s your question? No ‘hi, how are ya, Carl, what’s it like being dead?’ ”
Gracie turns to a younger woman at her side. “I told you he would be like this. Didn’t I tell you he would be like this?” She turns back to the medium and slams her hand down on the table. “Theclicker, Carl! Where’d you put the goddamn clicker?”
I groan. This is going to take a while.
It’s another fifteen minutes before the séance is over. Gracie still doesn’t know where to find the remote. She’s muttering angrily under her breath as she files past me. The medium is counting the cash she just received.
I clear my throat. “You had a little too much fun with that one,Ms.Laveau.”
She looks up and freezes. She’s too good to let her shock show, but I don’t miss the moment she takes to gather herself.
“I was just giving her the runaround Carl gave me.” She cracks a smile and holds up the cash. “I had toearnthis money. Boy gave menothing.” Her Yat accent is gone, replaced with something softer and higher.
“Is this what the Phantoms have you doing?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
She grits her teeth through a fake smile. “Nah, I just do this for fun.”
I saunter around the room, looking at the cheap tricks she’s set up. The fans, the mirrors. I peek under the table and see her stash of props.
