Anjali stared at the house and felt her stomach clench. She should never have come here. She should never have left her safe, secure apartment.
“Hey,” Scott said, “remember what I told you.”
They were sitting in his black Range Rover staring out at the house.
“I’m supposed to guide whatever is in there toward the light. I sound like a Hollywood cliché.”
Scott tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Some people believe that when you die there is a wonderful light. All the answers to all the questions you want to know are there. And when you walk to it…you become a part of that energy forever.”
“But some people die, and they don’t know they’re gone,” she said.
“For some reason they resist going into the light. And then some people just get lost on the way there. They need someone to lead them. That’s where you come in.”
Anjali frowned. “You’re not making all this up, are you?”
“I can’t tell you why you’ve been given this particular ability; no one can,” Scott said gently. “All I know is that spirits can keep themselves from moving on if their will is strong enough. But if my assessment of your ability is correct, your will is stronger. Just close your eyes and focus as if you were meditating.”
“Meditation, huh?” Anjali raised an eyebrow. “You know that was invented in India.”
“Yes.”
“So was chess.”
“I’d read that somewhere.”
“And dice.”
“Dice?”
“And hippies. A lost tribe of fair-skinned people who were forced out of India and relocated to America where they lived freely wearing love beads, playing the sitar, and totally getting into Indian spirituality.”
“I see.”
“And yoga. But not Hare Krishnas. Shaved heads and begging in airports have never been what India’s about.”
He smiled. “Oh yeah?”
“And pasta.”
“I believe that was invented in China.”
“Close enough.”
“Ready to take a look at the house?”
“No.” But she opened the car door and stepped out.
She started up the drive, but the sound of a car pulling up made her turn around. An old Honda Civic parked in the driveway. Lynne Michaels was home.
Scott held the car door open for her. “Lynne, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is Anjali.”
Lynne turned to her with a small, tight smile. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore no makeup. “So you’re the psychic?”
Anjali was totally embarrassed. “That’s me. Got any spoons to bend?”
Nobody laughed.
“The kids are at a neighbor’s,” Lynne said. “Come on in.”
Anjali reached under her shirt and pulled out her Ganesh pendant so the delicate chain rested above the neckline of her red tee. Her mother had given her the necklace for her sixteenth birthday. The feel of it against her skin was somehow reassuring.
Scott reached out and lightly touched the chain. “That’s nice. Ganesh?”
“It’s said that if you give Ganesh your love and energy, he will reward you and remove all the obstacles in your life. But if you ignore him, destruction will rain down on you with the force of a hundred elephants.”
“Good to know.”
Ahead of them, Lynne waited beside the open front door. Anjali took a deep breath and walked toward her. I’m protected, she thought. I’ve learned how to block. I can do this.
She crossed the threshold.
There was definitely a presence in the house. She knew it as certainly as if she’d been able to hear or see it.
No alien thoughts or emotions struggled to breach the barrier of her mind. Instead, it was like being in one part of the house and hearing the faucet running in the kitchen. Simply an awareness, neither good nor bad.
The knot in her stomach relaxed a bit, and she was able to focus. She could feel Scott’s expectations, his certainty that she would discover something. Lynne’s interest tinged with skepticism. She pushed those feelings aside. The room came to her then. Weak wisps of emotion, happiness, tranquillity, some sadness. Nothing lingered.
“I’m barely getting anything here,” she said. She tried to keep the relief out of her voice. She didn’t think she succeeded.
They visited each and every room on the first and second floor and some very nonspooky bathrooms. Nothing dramatic had happened on the toilet or in the bath. Attics were supposed to house spooks, and this one even had cobwebs and enough shadows to make any ghoul feel at home, but Anjali didn’t encounter the presence.
“I don’t know what else to show you,” Lynne said helplessly.
Anjali headed back toward the family room. There was one more area they hadn’t explored. She stopped in front of a door just off the main room. “This leads to the garage, doesn’t it?”
“What are you sensing?” Scott asked, pulling out a small rectangular machine.
He’d told her it was an EMF meter. He’d tried to explain what it did, but quantum mechanics had never been her strength. She could spell electromagnetic and that was about it.
“I feel like there’s something on the other side of this door,” Anjali said. “Why would any spirit choose to haunt a garage?”
Amused, Scott looked at her. “There’s always a first time.”
“What does your gadget tell you?”
“Something is definitely there.”
“The water heater started leaking the first week we moved in,” Lynne said. “So I’ve been parking the car outside.”
Anjali turned the door handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”
“The spirit could be holding it shut,” Scott said.
“Umm, I think it’s just locked, guys.” Lynne reached out and twisted the bolt. The door opened.
Anjali looked at Scott. They exchanged sheepish glances. Shaking her head, she went inside.
The force of emotion hit her like a tidal wave, nearly knocking her down.
The room filled her up. Swallowed her whole. Everything was cold.
“Anjali?” She could hear Scott calling her as if from a distance.
Her instinct was to run, get out, but then she felt his hand on her shoulder, firm and strong. And she realized she was still standing. She was still breathing.
“I’m okay,” she said. “The shock of it…hit me.”
Scott gazed at her with concern. “Are you sure? Do you want to go outside?”
Lynne’s face was pale and drawn. “You went still all of a sudden. Your body became so stiff.”
Feeling as if she had to put on a brave front (even though she wanted to go screaming into the night), Anjali smiled. “That couldn’t have been very attractive.”
She turned to Scott. “The presence is male. I don’t sense anything mean or violent. But for the life of me I can’t figure out what he wants.”
“Take a deep breath,” Scott said. “And close your eyes. Now what do you see?”
“It’s all jumbled. Cabinets. Tools? Power tools?” In the past, Anjali would have left a haunted locale by this point. Now she focused hard. Dug deep. Trying to understand the images and thoughts in her head. She saw a half-finished birdhouse resting on a wooden table. “This was his room,” she said. “He worked here. He loved his projects.”
“I wonder,” Scott began, “if the leaking water, the missing tools, the noises at night, are more of his projects? Part of his existence, between this world and the next?”
Anjali sighed. “I never thought I’d grow up to be a therapist for dead people.”
“Will he leave?” Lynne asked quietly. “I know this was his house, but can you please make him leave?”
Anjali looked at Scott. “What do I do?”
Scott’s gaze did not waver from hers. “Visualize a doorway filled with light. Urge him toward it. Tell him about his family. Make him aware it’s time to move on.”
Anjali took a few steps deeper into the room and started closing her eyes.
“Wait!” Scott said. He was holding the digital camera. “I need to put this on video mode.”
Anjali let out a sigh of impatience but held off freeing the tormented spirit until he gave her a thumbs-up.
She closed her eyes and envisioned a doorway spilling with light. She guided the spirit toward it, mentally telling him about his family, how his wife had moved. It was time for him to go.
She hoped he was listening.
There was a long, drawn-out sigh, and the room grew warmer.
“This house is clean,” she said.
And it was. She couldn’t feel anything anymore.
Scott came to her, eyes shining. “He’s gone. You did it.” He pulled her into a hug.
“The air shimmered,” Lynne said. “I saw something or I think I saw something, but the house feels different. You really did it.”
“I think—” Anjali began, and fainted in Scott’s arms.