A Haunting is Brewing
"You okay, Mel?" asked Maya.
I nodded as she came into the room. Tears stung the back of my eyes, and I had to swallow hard to keep from crying. I felt the warmth of her hand on my shoulder. She squeezed lightly, then hugged me.
"Did you see him?" she asked me.
"It's so sad. First, his death, and now...he's still here?"
"He was asking about his mom. I have a stepson, and I just can't imagine..." I blew out a long breath. "Anyway, I guess I should go see her and give her the message that he loves her."
"It might be hard to hear that sort of thing. Depending on her belief system, she might think you're just dinking around with her."
"I thought of that. But I wouldn't feel right to withhold."
"Maybe we should figure it out first."
"What would you suggest?"
"I was thinking about what you thought you saw before, with the mannequins moving. What if...what if we accidentally dressed one of those dolls in a serial killer's clothes, or something, and then it went after Adam? Or is that too out of left field?"
"That's...wow. I have no idea. I may see ghosts from time to time, but serial killer clothes are a little out of my league."
"My boss, Lily, can sometimes 'read' clothes."
"Read them how?"
"She senses their vibrations."
"This is a witch thing?"
"Like I said, I don't ask too many questions, but I was thinking—"
Maya stopped short as we heard a loud thumping overhead. We both froze, and rolled our eyes upward.
Footsteps. In the attic. The formerly unoccupied attic.
"At the risk of repeating myself," whispered Maya, "That's...creepy."
"We're the only ones here, aren't we?"
I nodded again. We were the only humans here. The only live humans.
Maya held my gaze.
"I think it might be time to call in a witch."
© Juliet Blackwell
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