Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

Nine

Belle sucked in a deep breath. “Well, he’s not happy, is he?”

Aiden glanced around sharply. “Baker’s ghost is here?”

“Hell yeah.” Belle glanced at me. “A protection circle is called for, I think. I can’t feel any magic here, but his anger is fierce and he might well attack.”

She unzipped the backpack and handed me the spell stones. I walked past Aiden until I found a nice open area between the various farm machines and other bits of equipment, and then quickly set up a protection circle. Baker’s fury continued to burn around us, and it was bad enough that sweat was now rolling down my spine.

“Why is he so angry at us?” I said. “We didn’t kill him.”

“I’m not sure he realizes he’s dead.” Belle stepped into the circle and sat down opposite me. “There have been some instances where there’s a mental disconnect between the ghost and the body they see lying on the ground. And given that the body here would have been skinless, confusion is not unexpected. Especially if he also saw his body—or a replica of it—walk out the door.”

I grunted and glanced across at Aiden. “I take it you want to record the session?”

He nodded. “His full name is John Baker, by the way.”

As Aiden dug his phone out of his pocket, I took a deep breath to center my energy and then raised a protection circle, lightly layering the threads of the spell onto each stone, until what surrounded us was a glowing weave of red, gold, and silver.

The silver was wild magic. It wasn’t anywhere near this barn and yet here it was. Uneasiness stirred yet again, but I thrust it aside, tied off the last line of the spell, and then activated it.

As the threads glowed brightly, I raised my gaze to Belle. “We’re protected against fits of anger and thrown objects.” Silently, I added, so that our ghost didn’t hear and get ideas, But not really heavy missiles.

He’s only a new ghost, so he shouldn’t have the power to throw anything truly heavy. Most can’t even interact with cutlery at this stage.

She wriggled closer. Once our knees were touching, she took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and gather her energy, and then closed her eyes and placed her fingers in mine. While some spirit talkers used personal items to make contact, or objects such an Ouija board or even a spirit pendulum, Belle had no need. According to my mom—in what had been a rather rare moment of kindness—Belle was one the strongest spirit talkers currently alive.

With our hands lightly touching, I felt the moment she silently summoned John Baker. His anger instantly intensified, but the shimmering walls of my protection spell kept most of it out.

What has happened to me? he all but shouted. Why can’t I leave this place? Where is Elsie? Is she okay?

I’m afraid you were murdered, John—

I repeated both their comments for Aiden’s sake, but kept my attention on Belle.

No, he cut in. I can’t be. I don’t feel dead.

Whether or not you feel it, you are, Belle said gently. Your spirit lingers here not only because you were killed before your time, but also because your anger and sense of unfinished business hold you here.

I’m not dead, he replied stubbornly. I’m not.

Belle didn’t bother arguing. You need to tell me what happened here yesterday.

Yesterday? There was puzzlement in his voice. Nothing happened. It was just a normal day.

A statement that suggested he was blocking the memory—and that really wasn’t surprising given how traumatic his death must have been.

If nothing happened, then why were you so concerned about Elsie? Belle asked.

His anger ebbed as concerned flowed. She came into the barn and screamed. I don’t know why, but she called emergency services and then fell down. I couldn’t wake her. I couldn’t help her. He paused. Is she all right?

Yes. She’s in hospital, but she’s receiving good care.

I need to see her. Why can’t I see her? Why can’t I leave this place?

You can’t leave because of what happened to you, Belle said. I can help you move on, but I can’t get you past the walls of this place and to the hospital. No one can now, John.

His anger surged again; the threads of my magic burned brighter, countering and muting the emotional wave.