She shifts from one combat-booted foot to the other. “Backroom?”
“A private, safe place to talk. You look cold. How about some tea?” I walk her over to the small table and steep a cup of our homemade herbal tea. Made with Lavender, Lemon Balm, Lemon Verbena, and Stevia leaves from a strawberry to clear the mind, calm the nerves, and dispel negativity and sweeten the brew.
“I don’t know.” Glancing back at the door, she worries her bottom lip, and I notice her hands have a slight tremor.
“What’s your name?” I ask her, being sure to infuse warmth into my voice.
“J-Jenny.” Her voice is barely above a whisper
“Jenny. If you walk out that door right now, I’m not convinced you’ll be able to walk back in again.” I hand her the cheerful yellow and teal mug with owls on it filled with the soothing tea. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
She glances up at me. Awareness flickers in her eyes. I wrap her hand around the now-warm ceramic mug.
“Take a few sips, and breathe.”
Her hands tremble as she blows on the amber liquid before bringing it to her lips. I watch as the liquid works it magic, and clarity appears in her gaze. The tremors subside, and she steadies.
“What’s in this?” she whispers.
I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. “Family secret. Are you feeling a better?”
“For the first time in months, yes.”
“Are you ready to talk to me about what’s going on?”
She glances at the space behind me toward Tante Odette.
“Don’t worry about her. I’m Lou.”
“Hi, Lou.”
I smile. “Come on, let’s talk in the backroom, it’ll be much better in there,” I say, thinking of the heavily warded room. I place my hand on the small of her back and wince. The sensation of bugs crawling over my skin strikes. My stomach turns. I raise a wall of protection around me, shutting down the attempts to penetrate my mind. This girl has fallen into the pit with a dark and nasty entity.
I guide her into the back and pull back a black velvet curtain. Natural light spills through the window. The walls are painted a haint blue that brightens up the small area and helps keep evil at bay. The soft blue-green color was traditionally used to ward off evil spirts. Shelves full of Mason jars full of ingredients, books, and crystals line the far wall. In the center of the room, we have a large trunk table. On either side, we have two charcoal gray velvet loveseats and a matching chair.
“Sit wherever you’re most comfortable.” I sink down into the chair.
She gingerly sits on the edge of the loveseat across from me.
“I don’t know what to say.” She stares down at the concrete floor.
“I’m not here to judge, just to help, Jenny.”
“It was supposed to be a
game. Something fun and creepy to break the ice at the housewarming party. It was my first time living away from home, and we’d invited the cute boys who lived across the hall over. Playing a spooky game seemed like the ideal thing to do. You know?”
I did. So many people think the spirit board is harmless. They couldn’t be more mistaken. It’s a gateway. A dangerous tool for even the most experienced. You never know what’s going to come through and make contact. If you’re not well-versed, it remains open. Once you peer out into the darkness long enough, it looks back.
“The four of us played for a while, and nothing happened. Not really. The boys tried to scare us, moving the planchette to answers, but it was obvious. When we got tired of it, we hung out and watched movies, and tried again. They left, and we didn’t think anything about it.”
Placing my elbows on my jean-clad legs, I leaned forward. “Then something happened?”
Jenny nods. “We started to hear noises in the house. Bumps, knocks, and whispers. I thought it was an overactive imagination. We live in an older building, and I’m used to a dorm setting with other girls around. We told our neighbors, and they insisted we use the Ouija board again. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I didn’t want to come across like a big baby. So I went along with it. It started off just like before.” She tucks the hair behind her ear. “Only, the planchette started to move on its own. We blamed each other at first.”
“Until?”
She clears her throat. “It started to move in circles.”