Repeating the incantation Goose had taught me, I popped the lid and began pouring the grainy substance as I went, intentionally making my circle smaller than Goose’s. Crossing the magic wouldn’t do me any favors, especially since he’d fought the entity and lost. When I finished, I took out the knife to mark it in my blood and grinned. The blade was my all-time favorite—a butterfly knife.
The knife whispered open with a deft flick of my wrist. I brought it to my hand and cut across the meaty portion of my palm. Blood dripped along the white salt on the floor, merging with it in fat drops, until I’d finished and the circle was complete. Sliding the knife into my back pocket, I returned to the bag. I removed the oil vial I’d need for the spell. Glancing at Jennifer, I noted she’d stopped growling, but I imagined if she was in a furry state, her hackles would have been raised. I stood and made my way to her, mentally preparing for what was about to transpire.
As I painted an oily cross across her head, I warned, “No matter what happens, don’t move from the circle. Some crazy shit might go on upstairs, but I’ll make it back down here. I can’t take care of myself if I’m worried about you. Understand?” I wasn’t sure what could happen to Jennifer, even if she was stronger and more durable than me.
My skin burned now with the desire to go upstairs, toward the person or thing my necromancy wanted me to see. I began trembling as I continued to fight the urge, very aware that soon I wouldn’t be able to deny it.
“I don’t like this.” Jennifer’s nostrils flared, and her irises took on the same eerie glowing hue again.
You can’t argue with the truth, so I didn’t bother. “Neither do I.”
Before I started making my way to the heart of the house—a bedroom that waited at the top of the stairs, I removed the Browning pistol Goose had included in the bag. I knew it wouldn’t do shit against a poltergeist, but the holy water in the shells would slow it down, and the weight of the sidearm sure felt comforting in my palm. After I checked the safety and clip, I placed the gun in the crook of my back, and pressed it into my jeans.
With one last look at Jennifer, I started making my trek to the set of stairs that were along the left wall. The carpeted slats kept my movements silent, but it didn’t really matter as each step caused the itchy sensation beneath my skin to intensify, telling me the spirit was as aware of my presence. More impressions of ghosts past were laughing as they reclined against walls, one feeding from a human who was so limp I was fairly certain she was dead.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I hooked a right and started walking down the hall, to the room that waited at the end. The door—unlike all the others, which were a plain, dark wood—was painted blood red. Emblems were etched in black along the surface, in a language I didn’t recognize.
I took a deep breath and reached for the glass door knob. As I turned it, I felt the burn under my skin increase as my heartbeat accelerated. The amulet warmed, and I welcomed the slow, even thrum of heat. Whatever power resided inside the charm had helped me thus far. I could only hope it would do the same now.