by B. B. Palomo
She left for the kitchen, having to round a corner before disappearing behind a dividing wall. I glanced around, noting the older pictures of my mom lined up on the wall. Her in high school, when she went to prom with Dad, their wedding, even a more recent family photo including myself. Even as her and Mom’s relationship moved further apart, she never stopped thinking about us, loving us, and it looked like Mom still had a place in her heart for Grammy, too, at least enough to send the occasional portrait.
“You’re not feeling well.” Noah leaned over and whispered in my ear.
I placed a sturdy hand on his knee, having to stretch to reach it, trying to reassure him there was nothing to worry about. “I’m okay, just a little headache.”
Noah searched my face like I’d grow another head and start breathing fire over a sniffle. Yesterday had convinced him I needed to be held under a microscope, each move being analyzed and compared to ensure it was my action and not that of an evil entity. I squeezed him gently, hoping it would help. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Grammy returned with the glass of water before any words could form. She handed it to me and slid a coaster out for me to set on the coffee table before sitting down. I could sense her eyes focused on me as I took a long chug. The water hit my tongue as if I hadn’t had anything to drink in ages, and before I knew it, the glass was empty.
“You don’t have any aspirin,” I confirmed, not able to ignore the pounding in my skull as I sat the glass down.
“I don’t think aspirin is going to help in your case, honey,” she replied, watching me as the words settled in.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Explain to me again what happened,” she said. I’d only given her the cliff notes version of what has transpired over the phone, leaving out the fact that Mom was convinced my dad had sold his soul to save me. She’d made small noises, acknowledging that she was listening as I spoke, despite me being so rude during our last phone call.
“Well…” I looked at Noah, who gave me a small smile to encourage me to continue. “I used it—the board, I mean—with Mom at first for a job, and after to try and talk with Dad. I brought something through, something—evil, but we got rid of it. It left after we burned the board.”
“That’s not the only reason you’re here, though.” It wasn’t a question.
“Well, no.” I shifted in my seat. “Mom, she told me to come. To tell you she sent me and that it was”—I thought back to her exact words, closing my fist over the cut in my hand, which had finally healed enough to not need a bandage—“that it was time to rebuild walls?”
“I see,” Grammy mused before clapping her hands together loudly, startling both Noah and me. “Well then! We have little time to waste.” She smiled widely at me as if I’d just given her great news.
“What did she mean?” I asked finally, after retrieving my frazzled heart from the floor.
“Hmm.” She sighed. “Walls is such a crude word in this case. She’s talking about your sight, my dear.”
“R-right,” I sputtered. “The ghosts.”
It was still so crazy. I knew they were real, but saying it out loud left a soapy taste in my mouth.
“Spirits,” she corrected. “Ghosts are more like imprints in time, tied to one place to replay certain memories—a type of reel in history. Spirits, my dear, that’s what you’re seeing. The souls of the departed.”
“Mom said I used to see them as a kid, but it just started recently,” I said.
“After your father?” she asked, and I paused.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“The scar.” She pointed to my head. “That injury is what unlocked your sight.”
“Well, how do you re-lock it?” I exclaimed. “I want it gone—”
I faltered. Would that mean I couldn’t see Cora again?
“There’s someone you don’t want to stop seeing,” she mused, reading my mind.
“How did you—” I exhaled. It didn’t matter how she knew. “Cora.”
She nodded, but a surprised look flashed in her eyes like that wasn’t who Grammy thought I’d say.
“You said you guys burned it, correct?” She shifted back to the board.
“Yes, that’s why I feel better,” I said, but the words weren’t entirely true. Ever since I had walked into her house, I had felt the slight prickle of discomfort, like a rough scratch of wool against my sensitive flesh.
“The sight is not your issue, Willow.” She crossed a leg over the other, shifting herself to get more comfortable. “Come here.” She stood, and after a moment of hesitation, I followed.
She raised her hand to my forehead, gently placing her fingers in the center. I flinched when her frosty skin touched mine but didn’t move back. Grammy closed her eyes, her plucked brows furrowing as she concentrated. As soon as whatever she was doing started, it ended, and she pulled back to get comfortable in her chair once again.
I turned to a confused looking Noah and sat next to him, searching myself for any magical changes she’d just performed.
“It’s interesting,” Grammy said. “You’ve managed to build your own—what did you call them—ah, walls.”
“I didn’t—” I blurted, but she just held out a calming palm.
“Don’t fret. It’s your mind’s natural reaction to something you don’t understand,” she said. “They were already there, so really you already had the blueprint for doing so. It’s why you haven’t been bombarded with spirits, only a few trickling in at a time,” she explained. “Why don’t you drop them?”
“W-what?” I stuttered, looking at Noah just to make sure he wasn’t booking it to the door. “I don’t even know how they’re up.”
“Just concentrate,” she said, an excited gleam to her eyes. “You already associate it with a wall, so imagine that surrounding you, then slowly coming down.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said. “Right?”
She shrugged casually and sipped from a teacup she picked up off the end table next to her.
“If I do this,” I asked in a small child-like voice, “will you promise to help me make them stronger, to block everything out? To help me be normal again?”
She didn’t answer, just nodded in agreement.
I hesitated as my brain screamed that it would bring the thing back, but the look on Grammy’s face said that was the last thing I should be concerned about. After a moment, I exhaled and closed my eyes to focus, doing my best to block out each sound of the room. The rhythmic ticking of a clock, the soft breaths from Noah, and my nails’ nervous scratch against the dry skin on my hand.
I reached inward, imagining myself surrounded by tall, thick red stone. The sun beat down over me as I reached out to touch the surface. I gasped, not expecting the usually rough material to be smooth as butter against my fingertips. A mystic breeze circled around me, whipping through my hair with gentle encouragement. I tapped my finger against the wall lightly, but a sliver carved out from the section and dropped my feet.
I pushed my hand out again, laying it flat against the structure. After a deep breath, I shoved it, not anticipating the force to do much, but immediately, the wall began to shake. One brick, then two came raining to the ground as I jumped away to protect myself. They came down faster, and I had no escape. I threw my arms over my head to protect myself from being crushed, but everything went silent.
When I opened my eyes, I was back on the couch. I flinched like everything would come rushing at me, and I’d be surrounded by needy spirits, but all was silent. No growl from a predator, no rushed whispers from the departed, just the three of us.
“Nothing,” I answered finally.
“Interesting,” she said again, bringing a sloppily red-painted nail to her chin. Upon checking her right hand, the polish was perfect.
“Why’s that?” I asked, perplexed that she’d say it in a way that made it seem wrong.
“Well,” she said, looking past my shoulder before meeting my gaze once more
. “We’re certainly not alone.”
Noah’s back went rigid as my heart picked up speed. I jerked my head, turning it around like it was on a swivel, and I’d somehow missed a person standing near me. I scanned the room so hard, my neck whiplashed before I looked back at Grammy, confused. She’d watched me, not uttering a word as I panicked, studying me before throwing me the bone I desperately needed.
“I really don’t see anyone,” I confirmed when she looked my way expectantly.
“Your dad is here,” she finally said.
My world seized as buzzing erupted in my ears. The room spun as I tried to wrap my mind around what she was saying. I continued to look, but I couldn’t see him. Any lingering reservations I had faded as I begged my eyes to expose the one person I longed to see more than anyone. Noah gripped my shoulder, and I could faintly hear him tell me to breathe before I realized something.
“You.” I wet my lips. “You can see him?”
“Oh no.” She laughed like I’d told a joke. “Sweetheart, you are the only one in here blessed with the gift. However, I can sense his presence. It permeates around you. It’s hard to explain, but I have a lot of years of learning to search for this type of energy. My crystals”—she pointed around—“help.”
“Why can’t I see him then?” I asked, ignoring the way Noah looked my way when my voice cracked.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
“How can you not?” I jumped to my feet. “You know everything about this stuff, don’t you?”
“Not everything,” she answered, unfazed by my outburst, but her eyes glistened with the pain I felt. “This isn’t a science. I’m sure there is a reason, but right now, there are more pressing matters.”
“What could be more important than my dad?” I begged and sat with Noah’s persuasive guidance.
“The demon attached to you,” she said.
“No,” I proclaimed, shaking my head with the implausibility. “We got rid of it. We burned the board!”
“I did it myself,” Noah agreed. “Everything felt normal after, like it left the house.”
“You only burned a doorway,” she said. “The problem is, the demon you let through had already come in. You cannot banish it that way. In reality, you never closed your session, and that entity is still very much attached to you.”
“No,” I argued. “I would know.” But I did know. Somewhere inside, something moved, and I was sure what she was saying was the truth.
“It’s dormant right now, but it never left.” An angry look crossed her face. “It’s probably getting some joy in that fact you believed so. These things are pure evil, Willow. They only exist to create fear and pain.”
“Then help me build my walls,” I shouted back. “I can kick it out!”
“That’s not how it works.” She sighed.
“No, that’s not right, Mom said—”
“Your mother lacks a respect for this,” Grammy said firmly, something coating her tongue I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “If your walls worked, you would’ve never gotten so close to possession, and that, Willow, is exactly where this is heading. That will always be a demon’s end goal.”
“It’s not her fault,” I argued, needing to protect her. “It was my friends and me. During the time with Mom, she was just working the board for show. You know, to earn money.”
“The timeline doesn’t make sense.” She sat back in her chair and rubbed her hand up her arm as she thought about it. “The way it progressed and the energy surrounding you, it makes more sense for it to have happened that night. Are you sure nothing was weird?”
I thought back, remembering the way the planchette was on the floor even though I was certain it shouldn’t have been. Something in my face must have given it away because she made a choked sound like she wished it wasn’t what she’d already suspected.
“There was a reason I’d never been a fan of those things. In the wrong hands, it’s hard to say what could happen. Your mother knew better than to bring that thing into her house. If she was that worried about money, she should have come to me.” Grammy’s voice stayed the same, but the way her eyes sharpened and the strength her words held displayed an underlying emotion she tried to keep locked away.
“She’s ashamed.” I bit my lip before continuing. “To admit that the thing she hated so much was the only thing she was good at.”
Grammy opened her mouth like she wanted to speak, but closed it quickly, resetting her face to a more neutral position to try to hide the flash of guilt that spread across it. Silence hung between us as hundreds of questions failed to make their way to my lips. Reading that with precision, she spoke up.
“I don’t think focusing on the semantics is going to help here, but I know you have a lot of questions. First”—she looked back up, and I fought the urge to search for my dad again—“I believe your father is holding back the demon, not your walls.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, exhausted over it all.
“He’s a stubborn man,” she bit out like she was sure he’d hear her. “But then again, they both are. I guess that’s why they were so perfect for each other. They each wanted to protect you in their own way.” Grammy looked away, lost. “Your mom was so focused on the present, while your dad saw right to the future. You were sick, you know?”
“That’s what Mom said,” I agreed. “But I don’t remember any of it.”
“I’d think not.” She smiled. “Herbs are potent.”
“What?” I asked.
“The sight terrified your mom, and the fact you had it—to her—meant your life was over. She asked me to help, to stop the spirits from coming into your life. It was behind your dad’s back. He believed if it was true, it was a gift, not a curse. He’d never let her go through with it, but against my better judgment, I did what she asked.
“That’s when you got sicker. Somehow, he found out and blamed me.” She finally placed her tea back down, the memories souring her appetite. “I blamed myself, too. That’s why when he asked for my help to make a deal, I had no choice.”
“A deal?” I asked. “Mom said something similar.”
“He indebted himself to a demon in exchange for your life, Willow.”
Waves crashed in my ears, and I had to sit forward to stop from passing out.
“Why would he do that?” I cried.
“Love,” she said like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You’d live, and he’d still get more time. It was a win-win in his eyes.”
“What about you?” I asked, realizing something. “Why did you go away then?”
“Your mom is a smart woman,” she said, pain filling her voice. “Helping your dad do that was unforgivable, and if them hating me for everything that happened, that was fine by me if they got to live happily together—with you. I could love you all from afar.”
“If he made a deal, why am I being attacked now?” I asked. “Wouldn’t I have some type of clemency?”
“That I don’t know.” She shook her head. “For whatever reason, you have something they want, something they are willing to break a contract over.”
“What can I do?” I asked, the weight of my dilemma crashing over me.
“You need to get stronger,” she said.
“How?” I asked. “I’m already holding it back, right? What more can I do?”
“It’s not you holding the demon at bay. It’s your dad,” she said.
“My dad?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “But he can’t do this forever. You’ll need to embrace your gift, Willow. The power that comes along with that is what’s going to send that thing back to where he belongs.”
“How can you expect me to do that?” I raised my voice again, more afraid than ever of failing.
“Willow.” Noah tried to comfort me, but I wasn’t having it.
“I can’t even see my dad. How do you expect me to get strong enough to exorcise a friggin’ demon?” I ran frustrated fingers through my hai
r and bent my head down toward my legs, the world closing in on me.
Warmth filled me, coming from the faintest touch on my shoulder. I looked at Noah, seeing his hands were nowhere near there, and that’s when I knew.
“Do you understand now?” she asked me softly. “Strength comes with knowledge, with conquering your fears.”
I leaned into the phantom embrace, imagining my dad’s strong hand placed firmly against my shoulder. He believed in me. That much I knew, and I refused to let him down.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me what I need to do.”
Chapter Eighteen
I wiped my clammy hands against my pants, willing myself to find the strength to push on. Noah had turned off the truck, but his hands were still positioned on the steering wheel as he looked on ahead, not liking that I had ordered him to stay here. With a final exhale, I flattened the hair in my eyes behind my ears, readying myself before I reached for the handle to let myself out.
“Willow.” Noah tugged my elbow, stopping me.
“Yeah.” I looked back.
He was visibly tired. The gray shirt he’d worn was stretched out, and his hair was a disheveled mess. He’d been through a lot, too, through everything. I’d almost forgotten that he was having to come to terms with my ability, about what was following me, and even more so that this would be a big part of my life. There was no changing that, but what I could do was take control back so we could have some form of normalcy.
“This is crazy, right?” I asked nervously.
“It’s”—he searched for the words—“a lot.”
“Do you believe me?” I asked. “I must seem nuts, saying I can see gho—I mean spirits.”
“No crazier than you being pulled down a hallway.” He shrugged. The movement was supposed to be lighthearted, but appeared strained as a shiver worked up his spine. I winced at the memory. “If I had any doubts, they ended there. I felt that force—that evil. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I’m the queen of that.” I laughed gently.
He leaned forward, snaking tender fingers out to grab my jawline and pull me in close. His lips pressed against mine, taking care not to cover the cut on my chin. The kiss was soft and urgent, like he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to share this moment with me again. I matched his energy, needing the strength of his touch to sturdy my resolve. All too soon, it was over. We smiled at each other breathlessly as I looked on to see if that was what he meant to stop me for.