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“Right and let me guess: she went ballistic.”
“Pretty much.”
“See, she does that when she’s threatened. Joseph, when I communicated with your father, Beatrix started showing up in my dreams before I even set foot on the property. Every night, I’d go to sleep, and she’d appear, sitting on my chest like a fucking gargoyle.”
My skepticism wanes only slightly. Neither Eleanor nor I have discussed our dreams about Beatrix with anyone publicly. Dante would only know about this if he experienced it himself.
“Eleanor, Beatrix sees you as a threat, so she’s trying to smoke you out.”
“What do you mean? So, this is just going to keep escalating?”
“It will unless you do something about it. I can set up a cleanse. We can do a ritual to cast Beatrix out. At this point, she might not even realize she’s dead. When you’ve been dead if she has, time starts to blur. She might need a little push in the right direction.”
“It’s getting close to when she died,” Eleanor mutters as if in a trance.
“Correct, so that means it’s only going to get worse. Plus, since she’s got such a hankering for those babies, I suspect she’ll only escalate as your pregnancy progresses.”
Dante retrieves a card from his shirt pocket, pressing it into my hand, “This is my card. Call me when you want to set something up. I suggest you do so sooner rather than later.”
I note the fine print on the card, “$175 an hour? You’re just trying to get money out of me!”
“Not this time, I’ll do it Pro-bono. Believe me, I want that bitch gone as much as you do.”
“Well, the contractors are finishing up the attic this week, and I’d prefer if everything were structurally sound before we send you up there.”
“That works,” Dante says calmly, “Like I said, I want to help you.”
“You want us to wait a whole week?” Eleanor almost yells.
“Joseph! Have you been listening at all for the past hour? We might not have a week! What are we supposed to do?”
“Usually, I suggest that clients stand their ground, assert that it’s their house, that kind of thing. But since you’re in the family way and Beatrix is even more active than usual, I’d kindly suggest you get the hell out of that house.”
Now I scoff, “You’re seriously not going to suggest that I evacuate the house I grew up in because of a ghost?”
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Eleanor. You can do whatever the hell you want. You can throw a slumber party in that decrepit attic!”
“I’ll book a hotel tonight,” Eleanor says.
“Good, and you call me the minute you want to set something up.” He gives Eleanor’s hand a squeeze and glares at me.
“I look forward to working with you.”
The front desk bell dings and Dante gets up.
“But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an 8 o’clock tarot reading.”
“We’ll call you,” Eleanor says firmly.
“Great. Oh, and Eleanor?”
“Yes?”
“Evan was right. You’re even lovelier in person.”
Eleanor blushes and waves as we exit. I let her go first, tiptoeing down the staircase.
“You’re not seriously packing a bag, are you?” I ask when we walk out of the exit for the bookstore.
