Death by Chocolate (The Davenports 2)

“Yeah, too much,” Daize mumbled.

“Are you up for it?” Mel implored.

“I have to be. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“We’re going to try to have you do an EVP session. Micah will be with you the entire time. You won’t be alone after what happened to you the last time.”

The words eased the tension in her back. “What if we’re wrong?”

“About what?” Mel asked.

“What if it does mean me harm?” Her throat tightened.

“We’ll be doing a house blessing. We’ll be honest. With a blessing, it could get worse before it gets better. If you do have a malevolent force.”

“Worse?”

“As far as hauntings, this one has been mild. You haven’t been scratched, pushed, hit, or given nightmares,” Trish said softly.

Daize covered her face. “Jesus.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have no reason to think it’ll go that way,” Scott reminded her.

“Are we ready to start?” Micah asked.

Eric looked up from the computer and nodded. “Cameras are set up and ready to record when you give the go ahead.”

“I’m ready,” Daize whispered.

“Let’s go over what to ask.” For the next ten minutes, Micah coached her.

Full of new information, she was ushered into her room. She longed to twine their fingers and take comfort from him, but she knew better. They turned off the lights and sat cross-legged on the floor. Hitting the record button, she spoke. “Who are you?” She glanced around the room, hyper-aware of the temperature and silence. They would not catch her unaware again. She paused for six seconds between questions to leave time for a response. “Do you mean harm?” The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The room began to feel as if it were filling up. Her heart rate spiked as her chest grew tight. “What do you want?”

The feeling of eyes on her, forced her to turn around. Her jaw dropped as a misty figure clad in a long gown with an apron appeared.

“D-Do you see this?” she whispered

“Yes,” Micah replied equally as quiet.

She moved to stand and found herself glued to the ground. Her eyes blurred. “I can’t move.”

“Me either.”

The figure glided closer and closer. The bottom half was misty, but the top half was semi-solid. The African American woman looked sad. She didn’t feel threatening. Still, panic rose through the roof. Breathing became more difficult. The ghostly hand reached out and touched her forehead with two fingers. Her body jerked, and the room faded around her.

She watched in the distance as African American men and women in homespun clothing walked slowly toward a large hole. Among the brown-skinned people, she spotted Caucasians dressed in various outfits she didn’t recognize. The ground shook and splintered. Dirt crumbled into a gaping hole formed in the earth. The people withered before her eyes. Bones protruded from the gray skin. Eyes bulged. The decay increased as flesh gave way and left rotting skeletons that pitched themselves into the chasm.

“Below.”

She spun to her left. A skeletal hand latched onto her wrist. She screamed.

“Daize.”

She blinked and found herself peering up a concerned Mel. “What happened?”

“You tell us. You and Micah just keeled over.”

“Micah.” She moved to sit up, and Mel pushed her back down. “Not yet. He’s fine. He’s coming around the same as you. What the hell happened?”