Page 23 of With All My Haunted Heart

An hour-long playlist of music centered at 417 hertz.

Most important is the fist-size orb of lepidolite that I’ve covered in my modified containment sigil. Lepidolite is useful for all kinds of transitions, and though I’ve never used it to literally transition a spirit from one location to another, it should work to transfer the ghost back to the B&B.

Elle’s right that a poltergeist doesn’t belong at Midnight Manor, but using one to test the strength of the bedroom barriers will be useful. Having the strength to move objects means they also have the highest chance of being able to break through magical barriers. And once I know whether the sigils hold, I can banish the ghost as easily from the B&B as I can from the couple’s home.

Win-win.

“The destination is on your right.”

I pull into the driveway of a cute craftsman-style home, and the moment I step out of the car, I can feel it. A wrongness to the energy at odds with the cozy home and its pillow-covered porch swing. Whatever has taken up residence here doesn’t harbor positive intentions. I gather my supplies from the back seat, a twist of nerves souring in my stomach as I approach the house. Even though I’m prepared for whatever is inside, my nervous system screams danger at me.

Before I can knock, the front door sweeps open. A Latine woman in her late thirties smiles at me and rests a hand on her heavily pregnant belly. “Pippa Ainsley?”

I nod. “I’m glad you agreed to let me help with your ghost problem.”

“Jackie! The exorcist is here!”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Same difference, though, right?” The woman motions for me to come inside. “I’m Marisol. My wife and I have tried everything to get rid of this thing. Her brother-in-law is a witch, and it seemed like his clearing had worked at first. Things were quiet for a couple weeks, but then the damn thing came back with a vengeance.”

“Reggie doesn’t normally deal with ghosts. He works as a healer at a clinic downstate,” a white woman—Jackie, presumably—says as she enters the room. Her salt-and-pepper hair is short, and she presses a kiss to her wife’s head before turning her full attention on me. “We can’t risk pissing this thing off worse with the little one coming in a few weeks.”

“Healing and dealing with the dead are skills that rarely go hand in hand. It makes sense that your brother-in-law struggled.” I let my gaze sweep over the living room, which is scattered with baby paraphernalia. “Can you show me where most of the activity occurs?”

“It happens everywhere, but it’s the worst in the kitchen,” Jackie says, then she and Marisol lead me into a large eat-in kitchen. “Like we wrote in our post, it started with cabinets opening and closing. Plates getting knocked off the counter. Lately, though, it’s started throwing knives.”

“Really?” The energy in the space is heavy with anger that borders on rage, but the specificity to throw cutlery is new for me.

Marisol crosses her arms over her pregnant belly. “I think it’s homophobic. I’ve lived here for ages. It didn’t become a problem until Jackie and I got married two years ago.”

“You’ve been dealing with this for two years?” The shock must show on my face, because the women share a sheepish look. “Why didn’t you cleanse the space sooner?”

“At first, it wasn’t anything bad. Pockets of cold air. That prickly feeling of not being alone. We thought it was neat, living in a gently haunted house,” Marisol admits.

“Things didn’t get scary until Mari’s baby bump started to show.” Several of the cupboard doors open and slam in quick succession. All three of us jump. “See what I mean?”

I reach out to trace a revelation sigil in the air like I did when I cleansed Midnight Manor, but then I pause. If this spirit is as strong as it seems, I don’t need to give it any extra magical oomph. And it’s certainly not hiding.

Changing tactics, I draw an amplification sigil over my third eye, sharpening my ability to see energy. Thick swaths of deep gray, like violent thunderclouds, hang heavy in the room. It seems to gather around the couple, but especially Marisol. “It’s a good thing I found your post when I did.”

“Can you get rid of it?” Jackie reaches for Marisol’s hand, worry thick in her voice.

“Absolutely.” There are a lot of things I doubt about myself, but this isn’t one of them. While I’d never wish a dangerous haunting on anyone, it’s nice to face something I know I can handle. “I recommend you leave the house while I work. Things could get a little…heightened until the spirit is fully trapped.”

“Of course,” Marisol says, but Jackie’s brows furrow. “What do you mean ‘trapped’?” she asks.

“I intend to trap the spirit and remove it from the premises.” I pull out the lepidolite—a gorgeous crystal with swirls of purple and white—and set it on the dining room table. “It was all in my email.”

The women share a look, a silent conversation passing between them, until Jackie finally nods. “If that thing stays gone, we don’t care how you do it. Especially since this is free.”

A drawer leaps out on its tracks. Silverware flings toward us. We duck, and a spoon buries itself in the wall. “Now would be a good time to leave.” I usher both women back toward their front door. “You’re welcome to hang around outside or go get coffee, whatever you want.”

“We’ll stay close,” Marisol says, casting a final look into her kitchen. “I have a pork shoulder in the oven.”

“I’ll try to be quick,” I promise, and close myself inside their house.

Time to get to work.