Kimberly and Sterling rested their fingertips on the edges of the planchette. Elise and Rosie lit candles throughout the attic. The dancing flames crackled and flickered, throwing obscure patterns across the walls and casting an orange glow over the space.
She met Sterling’s eyes across the Ouija board. Harsh shadows from the candlelight played across his face, highlighting his cheekbones while casting dark pools below his eyes.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Whatever you need.”
The property claim, dating all the way back to the Land Run, rested near her. She sometimes used personal items that held special meaning to a spirit when they were alive in order to remind them of their life and connect with them. Once reminded, she could help them cross over. James would unlikely respond in that way. He didn’t need reminding—he remembered his life and was focused only on punishing the descendants his wife had born with another man. Never mind the fact James had known Rebecca was pregnant before taking her as his wife. Never mind that he’d killed George, the man Rebecca truly loved, and beaten Rebecca mercilessly. He couldn’t see his own sins and believed himself justified to seek revenge.
What would prompt him to show himself? How could she convince him to let go of Faith and connect with her instead? Particularly since he had no interest in connecting and even less in crossing over.
“Are any spirits present with us?” she tried. Lame. What was she, a teenager playing with ghosts?
Sterling stared at the motionless planchette. He glanced up at her and whispered, “Want me to push it around a little?”
“Definitely not, though I appreciate the sentiment behind the offer. We want James to respond on his own.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“That would be a problem.” Her plan hinged on the spirit connecting with her. And she hadn’t considered a Plan B. This had to work. She tried again, more forcefully this time. “James, we’d like to talk to you.”
The candles continued to flicker and suffuse the space with soothing lavender scent. One of them popped in the silence that filled the attic. The dull roar of the protestors carried from the street to where she sat. For a moment, she actually wished she possessed the magical abilities the yokels outside accused her of. Then she could simply summon the spirit and force him to do as she bid.
She would have to be smarter. How could she, in effect, summon him? What was important to James in life? He may have been a complete jerk in his private life, but he somehow established himself as an upstanding citizen of Guthrie, a pillar of the community, rising to the rank of sheriff and overseeing justice in the burgeoning town. Or his own justice.
But Elise found no record of a James Loveless prior to the Land Run claim. Oklahoma had been a hideout for outlaws on the run for a reason—they could disappear into the wild land and elude capture. Who had James been before he showed up for the Land Run? In the wide-open plains and unsettled territory, generations before the Internet and social media, people reinvented themselves routinely, hiding past crimes, previous identities, and the ghosts in their personal histories.
She didn’t have facts, but her intuition rarely misled her. No true upstanding citizen had reason to run from his past. “James, I know what you did before you moved to Guthrie. Before Guthrie even existed.”
The candle flames went completely still. Coincidence? Or did she have his attention?
“I know what you did,” she repeated. “You lied. You stole. And when you decided to start fresh in Oklahoma Territory, the Land Run was your perfect opportunity. But nothing changed. You still lied and stole.”
“Ms. Wantland?” TJ said. “Something is happening in Faith’s room. She . . . doesn’t look good.”
“What’s happening?”
“She’s thrashing around on the bed. Daniel is trying to hold her down, but she’s too strong for him.”
She had James’ attention. “You may have fooled the other people who settled in town. But we see who you really were. You stole the land claim and you stole your wife. Nothing changed.”
“Faith just threw Daniel and shoved past Ruth,” TJ said.
“We all know who you really are, just like Rebecca knew. You’re a liar and a cheat. And a murderer.”
The flashlights in the room began to flicker as a low rumble trembled along the attic floor she sat on.
“Kimmy?” Michael’s voice trembled. “What are you doing?”
She pushed harder, knowing she’d found the sore spot. “You were nothing but a criminal, on the run, avoiding capture. You still are. And I’m going to tell everyone.”
She felt more than heard the angry roar that ripped through the house. Every flashlight in the room switched on and off in the darkening space. The overhead bare bulb burst in a shattering explosion, sending glass shards tinkling to the floor.
“The dog just raced out of Faith’s bedroom,” TJ reported. “His hackles are up and his teeth are bared. He looks ready to attack. But Faith looks normal again. Ruth is hugging her.”
A series of loud bangs echoed through the house as doors slammed shut.
“We have his attention,” she told Sterling. “Let go of the planchette.”
Sterling’s forehead creased. “You sure?”
“Yes. He’s coming. We’re finished with the Ouija board.” Well, she wasn’t. But no one else needed to know that.
Sterling lifted his fingers from the plastic piece. She picked it up and clutched it tightly in her hand.
Sterling reached across the board and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? You said handling that thing alone is dangerous.”
“It’s the only way.”
“Kimberly, no!” Rosie shouted.
“Put that down!” Michael yelled.
A whoosh of wind blew upward through the door to the attic and whipped through the open space. The candles snuffed out. A dust devil of angry energy swirled around her, lifting tendrils of her hair.
She smelled him—the reek of alcohol seeping through pores combined with urine and the sweaty grime of a body long overdue for a bath, with a film of filth caked nearly thick enough to plant seeds in.
“Kimmy?” Michael asked. “You okay? KII is off the chart. One fifty and climbing.”
“He’s here,” she responded. She sat perfectly still, allowing the spirit to continue invading her space, most likely trying to intimidate her. What worked on a terrified child, however, wouldn’t scare her. In fact, he was behaving exactly as she’d hoped he would.
She held perfectly still, even when she felt his stinking breath on her neck, putrid with the years of rot and decay. His most pure self was evil to the core. He had cowed and threatened and bullied people to get his way. Especially women. Not this time. But she would let him believe his tactics worked, so she could spring her own surprise.
She closed her eyes and pushed all her energy to her indigo chakra, focusing on sending out her lighthouse beacon, her invitation to connect. James was furious with her. He should want to connect, if only to take control and teach her a lesson. He wouldn’t be criticized and put in his place by a woman. Once connected, she would open a portal, drag him with her, push him across, and close the gap. The timing would be critical to avoid being pulled across with him.
She sunk further into herself, leaving the living world behind, allowing her psychic self to plumb for the veil, searching for the edge, so she could lift it and shove James beyond. She ran her spiritual fingers along the edge of this reality, until it rippled at her touch. She tugged. It warped, offering her the opening she needed.
Now where was James? She hadn’t yet felt the click that indicated connection with another, like two puzzle pieces joining together.
“I know you’re here, James. I’m the one standing between you and Faith. I’m the one you want.”
She waited. Nothing happened. He didn’t connect. This she didn’t expect. She pulled back from the spirit realm.
Snickers’ barks carried from where he stood on the second floor and ricocheted around the attic.
“Can someone quiet the dog?” Michael asked.
No one moved.
“He probably wants up here to help—”
James crashed into her with an unexpected force that left her gasping. Hands clutched her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter. She lifted useless fingers to her throat, prying at nothing. He meant to strangle her. His intent seeped into her psyche as clearly as a shouted message. He knew what she meant to do. She forgot completely about her plan and simply fought for her life.