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Dev
“Lark,” I said into the walkie.
“Yeah, boss?” she replied, making me smile.
“Are you in the middle of something?”
“Not really. It’s pretty quiet in here right now. What do you need?”
“I want to run a spirit box session if you’re game.”
“Always,” she answered. “I’ll grab the equipment and meet you in the carriage house in a few.”
“Sounds great.” I turned to Hanlen and explained, for both her and the audience. “A spirit box is an amazing device. It scans radio frequencies and creates white noise that the spirits can use to communicate. It’s sometimes easier for them to manipulate those sounds than to build up enough energy to speak and be heard on the recorders.”
“Wow, that’s fascinating,” she said. “I dreamed something similar earlier in the trip. How do you use it?”
“Lark and I, being the two available sensitives on the team right now since Dakota is otherwise engaged, will conduct an experiment where she wears sound-canceling headphones and a blindfold, and I ask questions through the walkie from another room. She listens to the white noise and will repeat anything she hears but she won’t be able to hear us. If we’re lucky, we’ll get some answers to the questions we’re asking.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to see this,” Hanlen said, and I thought she was actually excited. It was always so fun to see a skeptic won over.
Lark walked through the door and shut it behind her. “Hey, guys. I brought the gear. It sucks that R2 had to leave early . . . though I hate that he’s still not feeling well. He’s usually such a great pack mule and saves me from lugging all the stuff.” She grinned. “How do you want to do this, Dev?”
“I was thinking you should be the conduit again,” I said. “Tell me anything you hear and blurt out any impressions you get.”
“Sounds great. Are we trying to talk to anyone in particular?”
“Maybe,” I answered. “I’m not sure I want to lead you. Are you comfortable just seeing where this goes?”
She smiled, the expression reaching her eyes. “Always.”
When she was settled in a comfortable seat, and I had Hanlen move to another part of the carriage house, I settled into the corner of that room and smiled over at Hanlen. “Are you ready?” I asked her, but also Lark through the walkie.
“Putting gear on now,” Lark said. We heard some shuffling over the walkie and then, “Go ahead whenever you’re ready.”
“Wait until you see this,” I said to Hanlen.
“So ready,” she answered, holding up the pen and paper she held. I had given her the task of recording what happened—my questions and any responses we got from Lark.
Into the walkie, I whispered, “Lark, can you hear me?” When I got no response, I nodded and dove in. “Who do we have with us in the carriage house?”
There still wasn’t a response, so I kept going.
“Was this your house?”
“House. Died,” came from the walkie. Lark’s reiteration of what she heard through the headphones. “It’s a male voice,” she added.
“Who am I talking to?” I asked.
“Not supposed to be here,” Lark said. “Who are you?”
“My name is Dev,” I answered. “The woman you’re talking to is Larken. And this,”—I gestured to Hanlen—“is Hanlen Arbor. She owns this house.”
“Hanlen,” Lark said.
I watched as Hanlen stopped scribbling and raised her head, a look of shock on her face. I winked at her and kept going.
“Do you know Hanlen?”
