Page 37 of With All My Haunted Heart

“Why? Scared?” I tease, which only earns me an unamused look. “They’re not all this remote, no. I thought outdoor ghosts would be eager to trade up for a cozy B&B. Some of the research I’ve read suggests they can feel temperature.”

Elle twists her head to the side, studying me while I drive. Her focused attention in such a confined space makes my stupid heart beat faster. “I hope you see how incredible you are. I’m sorry your family couldn’t recognize that.”

A confusing blend of emotions swells in my chest. The mention of my family tugs on an old, lingering hurt, but that’s overshadowed by the sudden surge of hope that thrums through my veins. The force of her conviction mirrors what I felt hearing about her shitty ex, and I can’t help but wonder if she mirrors the same attraction, too. If she spent last night wondering what might have happened if Xander hadn’t interrupted us in the library.

If she wonders what it would feel like to have my hands in her hair and my lips pressed tight to hers.

“Your destination is on the right.”

Thank you, phone navigation, for saving me from myself.

I pull off the road into a small gravel parking area that opens up to the woods, where a trail is marked with a wooden sign. Once we’re parked, I grab the two backpacks I put together for our task today. “You good to carry one of these?”

Elle takes the offered bag and slings it over her shoulder. “How far are we hiking today?”

“About two miles.”

“Perfect. This can count as my run.” Elle squares her shoulders and sets off toward the beginning of the trail.

I hurry after her, fumbling to get my own pack secured. Once we’re past the tree line, the rest of the world falls away. Leaves crunch underfoot, yet there’s a veritable sunset of foliage overhead. The deeper into the woods we go, the heavier the silence feels. Anticipation presses heavy on my chest, mingling with the hundreds of questions I’m too chickenshit to ask Elle.

After nearly forty minutes, the trees part to reveal a small human-made clearing. At one end, a dilapidated shack stands weathered by time, the walls sun bleached, the door half off its hinges. A small firepit sits in the middle of the clearing, logs split down the center serving as uneven rows of seats. The place is littered with beer bottles, and I get the feeling this has been used as a party spot for generations.

“Well, this is…certainly something.” Elle makes a face, wrinkling her nose. “Do you think you’ll find any decent ghosts here?”

“Only one way to find out.” I slip off the backpack and retrieve my supplies. I had Dea overnight a custom cinnamon and cypress incense blend to go with the crystals I already had in stock. Bloodstone and obsidian to increase the protective barrier of the circle. Clear quartz to amplify its summoning properties. I’ll keep the lepidolite stones in the bag until we find a ghost we want to bring back to the manor.

When I set the Taser on the ground, Elle leans over my shoulder. “You don’t think we’ll need that, do you?”

“It’s just a precaution. The posts about this place didn’t mention anything particularly troubling.” I stand and reach for her backpack, slipping it down her arms. My fingers graze along the soft fabric of her plaid shirt, and as soon as the bag is free, I return to a crouch to put space between us. “Once I set the summoning circle, the ghosts should be well and truly trapped until they either agree to get in the crystal or I send them on their way. We should be fine.”

“Saying ‘we should be fine’ isn’t as reassuring as you think.”

I glance up at Elle, and from this angle, with the sun backlighting her red hair, it’s like she’s surrounded by fire. “I’ve been clear since day one that we’re wading into uncharted territory. Guarantees aren’t something I can offer.”

She sighs. “I know. It’s just so hard to have so much uncertainty in my life right now.” She reaches out to pull me to my feet. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nope, just give me a few minutes to set up.” I shake off the desire to hold her hand forever, and then step away from her touch and get to work. Drawing in fresh magic, I cast a large containment circle around the firepit, where I’ve already lit my custom incense, and then mark the four corners of the barrier with the crystals I’ve cleansed and charged for this purpose.

From the bag Elle carried, I pull out the final special ingredient for today’s outing: four pieces of garden quartz, a unique crystal with intricate inclusions that give the illusion of a garden scene. While turning over Xander’s request for visible ghosts in my brain, the garden quartz felt like the right place to start. It can promote clarity and stimulate the third eye, and there’s something about the images inside the crystal that resonated with my need to make visible something not normally seen on the surface.

I infuse the four pieces of garden quartz with additional magic to fully charge their potential and place them at the cross quarters of the summoning circle.

“Ready to see if this place is as haunted as the Witch-tionary says?” I ask, the magic flowing through me making my hands and lips feel buzzy.

Elle, who is disappointingly immune to puns, gives me a curt nod, crosses her arms against her stomach, and stares at the circle I’ve created. I turn on the 417 hertz audio on my phone, which joins the cinnamon and cypress incense already burning in the firepit. The sounds and smells fill the space as I trace a summoning sigil. If all else fails, ghosts are attracted to large pools of magic, but the rest of the accoutrements are there to give them a sense of the benefits of moving to the manor.

For several minutes, nothing seems to happen. I funnel additional energy into the circle, tracing variations of the summoning sigil in an attempt to expand the reach of its call. I’m more practiced at banishing than summoning, but I can’t fail in front of Elle. I refuse.

Finally, finally, a prickle of cold creeps up the back of my neck as something tests the edges of the summoning circle. Gray smoke pours into the circle from the far side, wispy and ephemeral before coalescing into the approximation of an arm.

Cold hands press against my back, their chill penetrating my sweater. “What the hell is that?” Elle’s breath is warm against my neck, and it takes everything in me to stay focused on the magic I’m pouring into the circle instead of leaning back into her touch.

“Give it a second,” I respond, keeping my voice low. “The ghost needs to get fully inside the circle before the magic can pull it into a human form.”

Despite the calm I project into my voice, Elle doesn’t let go. If anything, she leans closer, her fingers clutching at the thick fabric of my sweater.

More of the gray mass appears inside the circle, and then all at once, with a swooping sensation like the peak of a roller coaster, the smoky figure collapses into a man.