Sister of Darkness

by R. H. Stavis

  How is this different than a Collector, you ask? First off, a Realm Walker looks different. He’s an evil king while a Collector is more of a dark swell. Second, the feeling I get from a Realm Walker is infinitely darker. There’s a hotel in LA called the Cecil, which I’ll talk about soon, and I can feel its Realm Walker from Pasadena, which is almost fifteen miles away. Finally, a Realm Walker can pull in people from all over a city or area, controlling many individuals at a time and turning them against each other. A Collector doesn’t do that.

  Exorcising a person with a Realm Walker is by no means easy. It is the closest I come to the kinds of exorcisms portrayed in film, full of theatrics, drama, and a great, big mess.

  Unfortunately, I can’t name the people who have come to me with a Realm Walker—or even describe them or their situations in exact detail—because not only would you recognize them immediately, but I worry that the idea of them having Realm Walkers would cause mass panic. Just know that even though I’ve always survived, I’ve never come out of one of these exorcisms unscathed.

  I performed one such exorcism for a famous actor I’ll call Mr. Bad Vibes. This man was young, handsome, and very, very angry. He’d had a terrific career right from the start, but he’d had a tremendous number of volatile relationships that flamed out quickly—and all in the tabloid eye. He had a lot of people around him, though, and when he started complaining about insomnia and began getting in fights almost every day, one of them intervened and suggested he see me. They didn’t know the depth of his torment, but when he came over, as dark, negative, and brutally frightening as anyone I’ve ever met, I was about to find out.

  “I think I’m going to murder someone,” he said when he walked into my Spirit Room. “I’m not just imagining what it would be like to watch a person die, either. This isn’t some fantasy. I actually want to do it.”

  “Do you have one person in mind?” I asked, as straightforward as I could be. I wasn’t afraid. Like I said before, if I let one ounce of low frequency enter me when I’m facing an entity as malevolent as what was in front of me, my client’s done for.

  He looked down. “No. But I’m going to do it.”

  Part of me wished he’d said a name. The fact that he hadn’t meant that things were worse than I feared. Someone who just has the sense that they might kill someone, but not a particular target, is the most dangerous because you don’t know which way they’ll go. They may become a serial killer. They may enter politics and help start a war. They might infect an entire town with a contagious, deadly disease.

  His exorcism took three full days, and I hardly got any breaks. I knew if I rested, the entity would regroup and come up with a different plan to try to kill me and my client. Because Mr. Bad Vibes had been cracked open like a rotten egg, I couldn’t let him go home once we started. It was just too dangerous. He had to spend the night in my Spirit Room, weak, tired, and disoriented.

  Everything you can imagine happened during his exorcism: Chairs flew across the room, Mr. Bad Vibes vomited repeatedly, for hours on end, and bile spewed from his mouth. A rash broke out all over his body, and I watched him scratch at himself so much his skin turned raw. Every single one of his limbs and his torso convulsed, and at one point his whole midsection arched up as he threw his head back and gasped for breath. I never considered calling 911, though, because I knew if I did, the Realm Walker would sense weakness and defeat us.

  My client moaned, screamed, and retched, as much from the pain the entity was inflicting as from the energy that was moving inside him like a hurricane. When the Realm Walker became tired of working so hard physically, it began an emotional assault, causing my client to speak in other languages. Then, it started telling stories about my client or me—all of which were disgusting, and none of which were true.

  “You fuck everyone in town, you dirty whore,” it said.

  I wasn’t alone in that room. I called in Hecate and the Egyptian goddesses, whom I almost always work with, as well as St. Michael and St. Germain. I called in Archangel Michael for protection for us both. They never left me, and I continuously burned my most poisonous blends to frighten the entity.

  Even though I felt like I was on the front lines of war—exhausted, drenched with sweat, filthy, and beaten down—I didn’t do anything differently during that exorcism than during any other. I forced the same high-frequency energy into my client to push the entity out, but I did it more, for longer. As much as I wish I had a special bag of tricks for these extradifficult exorcisms, I just did what I did and trusted in Spirit.

  And it worked, just like every other exorcism. Exactly like every single time I’ve steeled myself and suffered through a Realm Walker exorcism, the entity didn’t explode from the pressure like you’d think it might. Instead, it just disintegrated right in front of me, never to return. What a pathetic exit given the battle it just went through.

  Mr. Bad Vibes left his exorcism so exhausted he thought he’d never recover. His manager made up some excuse about where he was, like he was on a long vacation or at rehab, and he wasn’t seen in public for a month or so. But when he emerged, he became a very spiritual person, and he’s developed an even stronger support system around himself. He started getting better roles because he was filling himself with light and good energy. All his life, he’d mistaken darkness for power, but after his exorcism he realized that darkness was only the illusion of power. He learned that unless he embraced high frequency, he could never be the agent of change he wanted to be.

  I haven’t spoken to him since, but I’ve watched him from the sidelines, and I can confidently say he’s doing well. He’s changed.

  After the exorcism, I was, too. I slept a full three days, and when I finally pulled myself out of bed, I took a long walk in Forest Lawn Cemetery—in my opinion, the lightest, most beautiful spot in Los Angeles, full of Mary and Jesus and all kinds of happiness—and decided I wouldn’t work for another month. I deserved the break. My life was better because I defeated a terrible force, and my world was richer because of it. Best of all, my client’s life was richer, too.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Source of All Things

  Source can be called many things: I usually say “Spirit,” but you can also refer to it as the universe, ethereal realms, heaven, God, or whatever term holds meaning for you. Spirit is the foundation of everything we are; it’s where each and every one of us comes from and where we’ll return when we die. Even though negative forces, such as entities, come from one of the many layers of Source, it’s still always positive because it can provide you with everything you’ll ever need to live well. Answers to all of the world’s questions lie there—if you know how to access them.

  People sometimes ask me how I came to my understanding of Source. I honestly don’t have a clear answer, but I suspect it was always part of my awareness. Because I saw entities from such an early age, a bit of me must have understood that I partially lived in the world of Spirit. And because my mind was always so connected to it, I learned how to get comfortable with it and then visualize it. Next, I taught myself to communicate with it. I actually spoke to Spirit often when I was very young, always out loud and always while I was by myself. But eventually I stopped, afraid of what others might think if they heard me.

  I embraced the idea again in my twenties, and now, in my thirties, I am in regular communication with Spirit. I have to be. When I don’t have an answer for something in my life, I’ll turn to Spirit, and I’ll get an answer. I’ll sometimes ask for help finding ordinary things that I’ve misplaced, like my keys. Or, once, when my cat got loose in an area rife with coyotes and I was desperate after looking everywhere, I decided to stop, center myself, and ask Spirit. Just like it had so many times before, it led me right to him.

  But I rely on Spirit for more important issues, too. When I’m having trouble making a decision about my career, I’ll ask Spirit to guide me. I may be presented with three projects, and I’ll be torn as to which to choose.

&nb
sp; Should I do this project, or should I not? All of them have their good qualities, but I’m not sure which one is the best for me. Which one can I give the most of myself to?

  Spirit doesn’t always answer me directly or in a straightforward way. It doesn’t whisper in my ear. As a writer, I respond to written language, and sometimes Spirit flashes words in my mind that I’ll have to piece together and make sense of in order to understand the message. Other times, the answer comes in creative ways that are unique to me—and might otherwise be imperceptible if I didn’t know to look for them.

  For example, I keep a lot of old-fashioned black-and-white composition books around my house. Entities like to mess up technology—especially by erasing things like hard drives, saved documents, and notes on your phone—so I can’t count on devices like most people can. This isn’t unique to me; a lot of people experience electronic issues because of entities, but they don’t realize what’s actually occurring, or it doesn’t happen to them very often. I’m very high frequency, though, so I experience it more than most—especially when I’m emotional and putting out more energy than normal. To get around writing on my laptop or phone, I buy composition books in bundles and use them for everything from story ideas to shopping lists. And, because I’m such a mature, level-headed adult, I also decorate my composition books with stickers. Most of the time I pick Earth or star stickers, but one month I chose dinosaurs just because they made me happy. I’m a dark gal, but I still have my moments.

  Perhaps it’s that adorable personal touch I give my little books (just kidding), but Spirit gravitates to them as much as I do. Sometimes, when I need guidance, I’ll close my eyes and put a pen in my hand. Then I’ll pick up whatever composition book feels right, open it up, make sure the pen I’m holding is actually touching the paper, and start asking Spirit questions.

  Can you help me?

  Sure enough, my hands will start writing on their own, moving like the planchette on which you place the tips of your fingers when you’re playing Ouija. They glide effortlessly on the paper, and I don’t feel like I’m exerting any pressure.

  Unfortunately, what flows onto the page—over a few minutes or a few hours—is a complete mess. There might be lines on one corner of the paper, scribbles on another corner, a word standing alone on an otherwise blank page, and five straight rows of something like this: ^^^^^^^^^^. No one except me would ever be able to make anything out of this scribble, but without fail, I understand it perfectly. This automatic writing provides me the answer I was looking for each and every time. I’m not the only person who does this—it’s a known spiritual practice—but I can safely say I’m the only nondenominational exorcist who does.

  My automatic writing doesn’t only relate to my own life. It also gives me information relevant to a client who has an upcoming appointment with me. For example, I once began writing words like “baseball” and “bat” in one of my composition books. I know next to nothing about baseball, so I thought to myself, This sure as heck is not about me.

  Later that week, I performed an exorcism on a man who’d been adopted and had never met his birth parents. Unfortunately, he never would because both of them had passed. But I sensed that the words I’d received were for him, coming through Spirit from his dead biological father.

  “Are you into baseball?” I asked.

  “I love it. I collect signed baseballs,” he answered. “I spend tens of thousands of dollars on them sometimes.”

  “Well, your biological father is trying to connect to you through that. He was into baseball, too.”

  Talking to Spirit also reassures me that I’m not alone, that in fact I’m deeply connected to something higher that’s actively helping me to make the world a better place. I need to know that Source will be there for me no matter what, allowing me to rid those who seek my help of the entities that plague them. I’ll communicate with Spirit and its Higher Beings about my life purpose, what to expect after a difficult change, and how to cleanse myself of old, outdated patterns. I also talk to Spirit this way at the conclusion of most of my exorcisms, when I’m feeling exhausted and raw. I need to get my strength back, and I know that for the next few days, I’m going to need Spirit’s protection as I go back into the world.

  I’ll close my eyes, take a deep breath, and think about Source. Then, I’ll say these words out loud: “This week, how will I know you’re with me?”

  I always hear a little voice in my head that gives me the answer. For example, once Spirit responded softly: We’ll send feathers to you.

  That week, I found feathers on the top of my car, peacock feathers on my lawn, and parrot feathers on the street. Feathers were everywhere for seven straight days.

  How You Can Connect with Spirit: The Big Picture

  After talking to Spirit every single day for almost thirty years, and doing exorcisms for the last decade, I’ve come to realize that we all enter this world deeply, intimately connected to Source. No one’s born without a soul. In fact, we’re blank slates brimming with Spirit until we start interacting with the world at large. As soon as we take our first breath, though, we put ourselves at risk. Even the smallest trauma a child might feel—such as hunger or worry that they’ve lost their mother in the grocery store—may push a person down, lowering their frequency and clouding their connection to Spirit. Soon enough, entities come in and obscure that relationship even more. But they’re not just disrupters; entities are looking to deplete your positive, straight-out-of-Spirit energy by feeding off it.

  Like all of you, I’m no stranger to trauma. My stepfather was a true father figure to me, and I lost him when I was sixteen. A few years later, my beloved grandfather, who’d suffered from diabetes for years, started to decline from complications. He finally was admitted to the hospital and was there for a week while his body became more and more septic. I visited him every single day, and I knew the whole time he was going to die very soon. The doctors were honest that he might not recover, but it was more than that; I always have a second sense when I’m with someone near death. I can tell right away which way things are going, and with my grandpa, I knew there was no way he was going to make it.

  A few years after that, my grandmother, whom I loved more than anyone I’ve ever known, also passed away. I had lost three of my most favorite people in the world in less than ten years, at a point in my life when I hadn’t fully learned to understand myself, let alone how trauma affects me, and it left me shattered. I hid from my pain, stuffing it down and trying to get over it. I didn’t see a therapist, and I had terrible anxiety all the time. I drank too much and mixed booze with pills. I never touched hard drugs like heroin, and I never went to rehab, but I was definitely a dance-on-the-bar kind of girl—every single night for months.

  Maybe it was because of my mom’s inability to deal with anything emotional, but I’d been conditioned to fear my feelings. I believed, somehow, that experiencing pain would destroy me. If I’d communed with Spirit, I could have broken out of that illusion and developed an energetic support system. But at the time, I didn’t. I wasn’t just weak and low frequency; I was completely destroyed and wouldn’t have seen or felt Source if it had slapped me in the face.

  But I was a different person in my teens and twenties than I am now. Once I accepted the fact that I would always see entities, learned how to talk to Spirit, and used my gift for good, I realized that facing trauma head-on is mostly about how you choose to view the world at large. If you can do that bravely, with Spirit on your side, you won’t suffer. Traumas just won’t beat you down, at least not long-term. Instead, you’ll make it through tough times with a clear head, growing and nurturing your connection to Source.

  In later chapters, I’ll give you specific meditations, herb blends, and additional tools that can help you remove mental blocks that encourage entities to attach. I’ll also offer details about tangible, physical things you can do to raise your frequency. But first, let me teach you about the mind set I’ve adopted that both is
hostile to entities and also promotes a deep and important connection to Spirit that protects and guides me.

  Staying High While Feeling Low

  In the past fifteen years, I’ve gone through many life changes in quick succession. I moved twice in one year. I got divorced. I saw beloved projects fall through. I lost close friends and pets I loved. All of these low points in my life have been sudden and painful, but I’ve forced myself not to treat them like traumas. During each of these times, I chose to accept my new situation because I no longer work from a place of ego. I knew these disruptions were like my car wreck; a spiritual sign warning me that I had to become higher frequency. I chose to work with Spirit to help that happen. Uncoupling, death, upheaval, and failure isn’t about me; it’s about what Source wants for my life. Realizing that is the way to fight back and defend yourself when awful things come to pass.

  In every transition in my life, big and small, I try to feel so aligned with a higher power and my calling that, when I make a decision, it’s never from a place of defensiveness, hostility, or self-preservation. Essentially, I tell myself that the choices I make are never about me or how I might react; they’re about doing what’s best for the world and the people in it.

  You might be saying to yourself, Rachel, that all sounds good, but it’s also pretty unrealistic. Breakups are tough. Getting fired or kicked out of your home is stressful. How can you not hate the person who did that to you or take it personally? I know it’s hard, but think of it in these terms: If one person in a relationship cheats on the other person, what hurts most is not the actual act, but the reaction to that act. It’s the feeling you manifest that burns you inside, not the incident that caused it. Cheating is not something that’s done to someone else; it’s something that’s simply done, and it’s a symptom likely caused by feelings of worthlessness, rage, or some other destructive impulse. I want to be clear I’m not blaming the victim here. Betrayal is awful, and you don’t have to accept or forgive it if that doesn’t serve your own spirit. What I’m saying is that if you don’t work from a place of ego, you realize that people aren’t their symptoms; they’re just people. What they do has nothing to do with the other individual. In essence, it’s not about you or them. Like the bumper sticker says: Shit happens.