The Sibyl E-Book

Cynthia D. Witherspoon

• Herausgeber: Cynthia D. Witherspoon
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Every Ghost Has A Story.

My name is Eva McRayne, and you don't know me yet, but you will. I am the co-host of a paranormal documentary show called Grave Messages. I am also The Sibyl.

What's The Sibyl? 

Apollo's messenger for the dead. Yeah, that Apollo. The same god from the Greek mythology stories we were all forced to read in high school.

Except, the stories aren't stories. The gods are real. The ghosts are real. 

And my choice is a simple one. Use my new immortality to bring followers to Apollo or commit the suicide I had so desperately wanted before the gods and ghosts invaded my life.

It's not much of a choice. Then again, it was never meant to be. Succeed or relinquish this crazy life to someone else.

And in the process, lose my own.

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Table of contents

THE SIBYL

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

​About the Author

THE SIBYL

The Oracle Series, Volume 1

Story ©copyright Cynthia D. Witherspoon, 2015

Cover art: TessabyDilia Ovied edited for cover use by Cynthia D. Witherspoon. Creative Commons.

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CHAPTER ONE

June 24th

Athens is burning tonight. You'd think I'd be used to the heat of a southern summer since I had been born - then raised - in Charleston. But Georgia heat isn't the same as it is on the Carolina coast. Where Charleston's humidity smothers you, Athens' sun boils you alive. The heat remaining long after twilight. I imagine my blood bubbling beneath my skin every time I walk outside.

I shouldn't write that. Dr. Stevenson suggested I only put happy thoughts on paper. Lies scratched in black on white. Underlined with the pale gray print of my notebook. Maybe someday, I will convince myself that they are true.

"If you can't say the words, then write them." He had stressed. "Write them all down so you can revisit the good in you when all you can see is the bad."

He's right, I suppose, though I'd never in my wildest dreams imagine going to see a therapist. Funny. It was my dreams that drove me to his office in the first place.

I am getting ahead of the assignment. Perhaps, I should introduce myself first. That is the only way to begin a new relationship, after all. A name. A smile. A 'how are you?' and the rest unfolds with ease. But nothing is easy. Not really. Especially not relationships.

My name is Eva. That's not my birth name. That's not the name printed on my birth certificate at least. The name printed on that scrap of government acknowledgement was too long. Pretentious. It was as heavy and hard as the memories attached to it. So I sliced it away. The extra letters discarded until Evangelina became Eva.

It fits me better. Eva is a serious name. One that is quick and to the point without a flurry of bullshit hanging from it. So at nineteen, I did the unthinkable. I went against my mother's wishes and changed my name through the court. Evangelina Claryse McRayne became Eva Claryse McRayne. If I ever marry, I'll work up the courage to drop Claryse, too. It's too full of my mother's aspirations. The name itself literally means 'famous'.

I wonder how many baby name books she had gone through to find that one. A name so perfect to fit into the dreams she had for me.

Dreams. That word again. I hate that word now. I had gone years without remembering them. So why now? Why did it take a college diploma to make me remember the scenes from my sleep?

I suppose I will tell you about them some day, but I am running late already. I am meeting a friend for drinks downtown and Elliot hates it when I keep him waiting.

I'd nearly dismissed his invitation. I was far too busy wallowing in my state of unemployment to spend money on alcohol. But Elliot promised he had a job offer lined up for me. He promised it was good.

We would see. I had an idea of the type of career Elliot had in mind for me. And I was sure I wouldn't like it.

***

I stared at Elliot Lancaster as if I'd never seen him before. Perhaps, I hadn't. His eyes were too bright today. His hands were too animated. More than once, I was convinced the beer resting next to his elbow would go toppling over to spill its contents across the old wooden table. I broke into his monologue about the amazing adventures we would have with a wave of my hand. It took a minute, but Elliot sputtered to a stop mid-sentence.

"You've lost me." I managed to pull my voice to the surface. It blended well with the country song that bayed from a jukebox in the corner of the bar. "Go back to the contracts."

"Not much I can say about them." Elliot picked up his bottle by the neck to take a swig. "You'll learn all you need from Connor."

"Whose Connor again? Why is he important?"

"Why-," Elliot breathed and I didn't know if it was the atmosphere or his breath that stank of cheap beer. "Did you not hear a single word I just said?"

"I was listening."

I was lying, of course. I'd tuned Elliot out when he started talking. I tended to do that when I was around him despite his status as my best friend. I can't tell you why I considered myself close to him. Perhaps, it was because he always found me on campus. Perhaps, it was because he had a hardness about him that I could relate to. He gave me a cold look now before he rewound his story. This time, I made sure to focus on him instead of the crude words carved into the surface of our table.

"Connor Garrison is the executive producer who agreed to take on this project."

"Ok." I studied him through the hazy air. Cigarette smoke hung between us like a curtain. "I think it's great that you got a gig on television, but I can't do this with you."

"Why not?" Elliot fell back in his chair. "Give me one good reason why you can't be on the show."

"You know why."

I didn't have to speak loud for Elliot to hear me. He knew exactly what I was talking about. He knew everything about me whether I wanted him to or not.

"Eva," He clasped my hand against the table until the words beneath it cut into my skin. "That's over. You're better."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you are." Elliot emphasized his words with a wave of his hand. "You can get a shrink in L.A. They can travel with us if it makes you feel better."

Nothing about this conversation made me feel better. Nothing about the decisions Elliot had already made for my life set well with me. The knot in my stomach tightened as the whiskey I had been sipping on threatened to bubble back up.

"How?" I used the break in the music to speak. "How can I do this? I've never been on television. I didn't grow up in that world like you did, Elliot. I have no experience."

Elliot smirked at my concerns. I thought they were valid ones. My friend made it clear he disagreed with me. He took another sip from his beer, swished the liquid around in his mouth, then swallowed. Elliot was pretending to consider my words, but he already had an answer. Elliot always had the answer.

"You don't need experience. You'll be a presenter, not an actress." Elliot began to gesture with the bottle. The table was so small, I stiffened as I expected to get smacked in the face. "This isn't any gig on T.V., Eva. This is our chance to travel the world. Maybe we can make a difference in people's lives."

"Let me get this straight," I caught the bottle before it connected with my nose then pulled it from his grasp. I took a swig and vomit rose up in my throat. The alcohol was too bitter. It stank worse up close than it had across the table. "You want to go to dusty old houses and talk about the scary ghosts who live there? How in the hell are you going to make a difference doing that?"

I kept it in the singular. There would be no 'we's in my responses. Television was Elliot's world, not mine. No matter how hard he tried to pull me into the abyss with him.

"Give me that." He snatched his nasty beer back. I went back to studying the table top. "If we can prove the existence of the paranormal, it would be monumental."

"How can you prove such a thing?"

"Belief."

"I don't understand." I pulled my eyes upward. Elliot looked distorted in the low light. He looked meaner somehow. "Belief can't prove anything."

"Belief is the proof."

I squinted as I tried to see him. Someone put a quarter in the jukebox and Dolly Parton filled the silence between us. She sang a song about being hurt by love.

I didn't know about love, but I was intimately familiar with being hurt. Elliot let me sit there like a sulking child before he tried again.

"Our crew will consist of me, you, and a cameraman. Come on, Eva. I need you on this. Two friends, chasing down ghosts together. We'll have a hell of a time."

I began to tear his beer napkin into little squares. Most ended up in jagged shards that I pulled into a pile with a swipe of my palm. Flimsy pieces of trash that had once been wooden trees. Funny how the same material that made the table we sat at also created the trash in front of me now.

"Elliot, I just can't." I found the strength to refuse him. "There are a million girls who would kill to have this conversation with you. I'm not one of them. I'm sorry."

"Is this because-"

"Partially." I interrupted him. "I am starting to make progress, Elliot. What if I screw it up? What if-"

"Eva, stop. You're not crazy. You don't need a shrink. You need to get over it."

I couldn't breath as I stared at him. A strange numbness wrapped itself around me. I forced myself to grab a twenty from my wallet to cover my drinks. I tugged out the bill then pressed it on top of the trash pile.

"I'll be sure to tune in, Elliot. Sounds like a real riot."

I slid out of the rickety chair and almost ran face first into a couple stumbling past me. They were trying to make out and walk at the same time. The result was a laughing fit between them as they continued past. Neither had seen me.

I was as invisible now as I had ever been. A familiar ache filled my chest. It thudded along with my heartbeat until it settled in the pit of my stomach.

"The studio is going to provide us with a condo. A five figure salary to start."

Elliot finished his beer then stood. He hooked his arm through mine in an act of possession. When we first became friends, I had relished in the gesture.

Elliot saw me. He really saw me. We'd met in English 101 our freshman year at the University of Georgia. I was the tattered girl in the back corner. He was the charismatic student who had everyone swooning over him. The first few weeks, he ignored me as everyone else had done. But it wasn't long before I started spotting him everywhere. At the gym where I had cheerleading practice. In the canteen. The library. When he finally approached me, I called him a stalker. He told me I wasn't wrong then proceeded to take the seat across from me. He talked the rest of the night.

And that became the pattern of our friendship. Things had never blossomed beyond that between us. I became used to Elliot"s presence. He would come to the football games to watch me cheer. He would appear on my paths around campus. Come to my little apartment when he knew I would be home. I asked him once why he'd even bothered to approach me. Elliot had given me a magnificent grin of white pearly teeth.

"Because I decided that you are mine."

That was it. I had no choice in the matter. We weren't dating. Elliot liked his women easy. Fun. More than that, he liked them happy. Everything I was not. I was far too focused on school to attend frat parties or take part in the stupid games they played on the quad.

"Eva," Elliot tapped me on the nose as we stepped out on the sidewalk. "You're not listening again."

"What? Sorry. I was thinking about you."

"About me?" His face lit up. "What about me?"

"About how we met." I confessed. "What were you saying?"

"That the show is more than a job." He clasped my arms. I was so thin, his fingers were long enough to touch each other. "It's your chance to get away from Georgia. From your nightmares."

"Did your dad set up the condo? And the huge salaries?"

Elliot's face went dark and I opened my mouth to apologize. I was all too familiar with his fear of being under the shadow of his famous father. The great Joseph Lancaster who had founded Theia Productions. I can't tell you how many times I heard him talk about his fears of not measuring up to his father after too much alcohol. Usually, his confessions came before he passed out on my couch. His body relaxed by the liquor, his soul lightened by his impassioned speeches of failures and prodigal sons.

"Dad wrote out his conditions for hiring us, but the show is my idea." Elliot returned his arm through mine, mercifully forgiving my slip of the tongue. "I pitched it to Connor's team. They loved it. Now, all I have to do is get your name on the dotted line."

"I haven't agreed to this." I frowned at him as we passed beneath a streetlight. "I still have concerns, Elliot. I can't just dismiss them."

"Eva, everything here," He gestured to the row of bars across from us. "Everything in your past? It's gone. Start over with something new. Somewhere new. Let all of this just fall away."

"And while I'm at it, become a completely different person?" I snorted as I moved closer to him when a crowd of boys dressed in shorts and body paint raced past us. "Is that what you want?"

"I think it will be good for you." Elliot tapped my temple as a headache formed behind my eyes. "Hollywood changes people. It can make you or break you, Eva. I won't let it break you."

I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. A part of me wanted to do this. A part of me wanted to stay with Elliot so that he wouldn't forget about me. I'm pretty sure the alcohol had taken over when I finally gave him the answer he wanted so badly.

"Ok." I whispered. "Ok, I'll do it."

"Really?"

Elliot let out a whoop before he lifted me off my feet in a bear hug. The lights spun around me in thin streaks against the night so I shut my eyes.

"Put me down!" I smacked his shoulder. "Elliot! I'm gonna puke!"

Elliot put my feet back on the sidewalk and I stumbled forward when my knees decided not to work. Elliot caught me against him then wrapped me up in his arms. Even drunk, I felt nothing for him. No sparks. No pool of desire in the base of my stomach. Maybe I was too stunted to feel emotions anymore.

I pulled back with a muttered 'sorry'. Elliot, still on a high from his victory, grinned at me in the streetlight. He looked like a wolf with pointed teeth when the shadows hit his face.

"Tell me, Eva. What made you change your mind?" His grin grew wider. Almost grotesque. I shuddered and took a step away from him. "Was it my good looks?

"It certainly wasn't your modesty."

I began to walk towards my apartment and chided myself for my thoughts. Elliot wasn't dangerous. He was my friend. He was there, wasn't he? He had stayed with me after...after the event. After my parents had returned to Charleston and the mess that was my mind began to unravel. I hated that it spilled outward.

I thought of the little notebook I had left behind on my desk. I needed to write this out. I needed to plot and plan ways to hide the crazy in myself. I needed to become someone different.

Not Evangelina, but Eva. Not the broken girl scared of her own thoughts but a fighter who could survive anything that came her way. I could do this, I told myself. I would do this.

"Wait up!" Elliot caught up to me and fell in step beside me. He bumped me with his shoulder and I nearly took a tumble into the trashcan on the street. "I'm gonna crash on your couch."

"I'm not really in the mood for conversation." I cut my eyes up at him. I was nearly afraid I'd see the wolf in his features again, but there was nothing but a half drunk smile on his lips. "I'm going to bed."

"We leave for L.A. on Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" I squeaked out the word. "Are you serious? Wednesday is only two days away and I have so much to do! I'm not going to be ready by Wednesday."

"You'll be fine."

Elliot took my hand and I let him. The sweat on my palm was cold and made my skin feel clammy. To the crowd around us, we appeared to be a couple drunk from the bars and each other. I found that strange since there was nothing between us.

Nothing at all.

CHAPTER TWO

My mother called me today. To be honest, I was surprised to see her number when it flashed like a warning sign across my screen. Janet McRayne wanted as little to do with me as possible. Believe me when I say the feeling was mutual.

I considered letting her call go to voicemail. I was busy, after all. Busier now than I had ever been. Yet, the fear I felt for her remained coiled like a snake in my stomach. By the third ring, I snatched it up before I made myself sick from its venom.

"Hello," I sat forward in my desk chair. "Eva speaking."

"Evangelina." My mother's tone was cold and I winced despite the fact that she was three thousand miles away from me. "You should use your proper name now."

"According to the state of Georgia, Eva is my proper name." I busied myself by rearranging the pens in the little yellow cup beside my monitor. I was still on edge, still anxious from my thoughts of disobedience. "What can I do for you, Mom?"

"We haven't heard from you since you left for California and the girls at Society are asking about the show."

Of course they were. The 'girls' my mother referred to were a group of women suffering from empty nest syndrome and menopause. The Heritage Society had been my mother's most beloved project for ages though I was sure they spent more time discussing the latest Hermes bag line than how to preserve the history of my hometown.

"Evangelina."

Janet McRayne's tone was one of perfected impatience. I envisioned her standing in the kitchen dressed in pressed slacks, heels, and a set of white pearls that were the true mark of a lady. Her beautiful face stoic, but her green eyes would be flashing with anger at me.

"Fine," I managed. "The plans for the show are going fine."

"You must give me more than that." A low tapping filled the air. Her perfect manicure must have taken the brunt of her frustration with me. "Have you met anyone interesting?"

By interesting, I knew she meant famous. But my negative answer disappointed her. I was good at that, you see. Disappointing my mother.

"No, I'm sorry." I pulled out a red pen and began to doodle on the side of my notepad. Two harsh strokes. More. I needed to keep myself busy when I spoke with her. It helped my voice remain steady. "I am taking classes through Theia's studio. We are going to a conference tomorrow to announce the start of filming."

"An announcement? What sort of conference?"

"It's called Paracon. In New York."

"I can't very well call it by such a ridiculous name." She scoffed. "Isn't there another name for it? Something more grand?"

"No, m'am. I'm sorry." I bit my lip at my second apology in less than five minutes. I racked my brain to come up with something positive. "The condo is lovely though. It is a two story and on a cliff. I can see all of Los Angeles from my bedroom."

Elliot came into the office at that moment. I used him as an escape from my mother's phone call.

"Elliot is tapping his watch, Mom. I need to go."

"Very well. Call me when you have something exciting to talk about."

That was it. I shut down my cell phone and rested my forehead on my arms. Elliot gave me a curious look. I could feel his dark eyes boring into the top of my head as if he could see my thoughts through my skull.

"Janet?"

"Janet." I lifted my head and took in his tshirt and jeans. Elliot didn't bother with a business casual wardrobe. He didn't have to since his father signed our paychecks. "She was just checking in."

"We've been in L.A. for almost two months and she's just now checking in?"

"Yup," I breathed out the word. I turned to my laptop then jostled the mouse so that the Google homepage replaced my screensaver. "She needed an update for the Society. I guess she's tired of being overshadowed by weddings and pregnancy announcements."

"You know she's excited about the show."

No, she wasn't. My mother wasn't excited about the show. She was excited about the fame she was convinced would come my way from the moment I was born. She was excited about breezing into her Society gatherings then clutching at her pearls as the old bats chattered at her about seeing me in magazines. It didn't matter to her that most television shows never went past the Pilot. Evangelina would make her dreams come true or die trying.

"Anyway," Elliot ignored my silence. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and studied me. "We are going to leave in an hour for home. We need to pack for the flight tonight."

"I'm going to the coffee shop then." I swooped the mouse downward and clicked to shut it off. "I'll meet you in the garage in an hour."

"I swear, you work more in that hole in the wall than you do up here."

I snagged a pen, my messenger bag, and pulled my leather bound journal from my desk. I had promised myself I would catch it up. I hadn't been very good at making daily entries, nor had I gotten another therapist. Now was as good a time as any.

"See you in an hour."

"See you."

I headed to the elevator before Elliot could say anything else to distract me. He had a horrible habit of monopolizing my time. I had a horrible habit of letting him. So when I got my coffee order from the barista and snuggled into the plush seat of the booth, I silently congratulated myself for getting away.

I checked the date on my watch then sat back. I had two months of events to talk about, but I knew I would barely scratch the surface. I turned to a blank page and began to write.

August 24th

I have been in Los Angeles for almost two months now. The land of fake blondes and even faker body parts. The land of the stars and excess though I've seen more homeless people than I have celebrities. I always feel guilty as Elliot rushes me past them. I'm not invisible! Their eyes silently scream as they shake their cups at us. I'm a human, too!

I want to help them. I want them to know that they are not alone. That they are seen. Acknowledged. But I don't stop. I don't go against the tide that is Elliot Lancaster. He is the wave and I am the sands being tugged wherever he sees fit to lead me.

Any good shrink would tell me that I have replaced my mother with Elliot. I am so used to being controlled that I've never allowed myself the freedom to do as I please. They would say - with a furrowed brow - that I am repeating the harmful cycle that led to my hospital stay.

It is easier, I think, to do as I am told. There is no drama and everyone around me is happy. Because I followed Elliot, I now had a beautiful condo. I had a contract that promised more riches than I could have dreamed of if I play my cards right. If the results are so positive, then why fight against them?

My first meeting with Connor Garrison went well enough. He had circled around me. Nodding in approval. Before I could ask him if he wanted to measure my waist and check my teeth, he had boomed that I was perfect. I was exactly what the show needed.

And so, my Hollywood career began. I was outfitted, pampered, and plucked until it became annoying. I had wanted to scream that if I was so damn perfect, then why did I have to go through this torture?

I didn't. I kept my mouth shut and appeared at every appointment. I went to every voice and blocking and equipment class. I smiled as I tried to be Eva, not Evangelina. I laughed or joked or smiled at everyone I came in contact with. This would be my image to the world. A happy, glamorous creature who charmed instead of cried. Eva McRayne would have it all. Evangelina could stay tucked into the back of my mind.

We have a cameraman. I met him the first day. The contract day. His name is Joey Lawson and his smile was infectious. Joey reminded me of every big brother I had ever seen on a sitcom. He's as tall as Elliot. Lean with a head full of dark curly hair and brown eyes that sparkle.

"Eva!" He had boomed before he swept me up in a hug that took my breath away. "We're gonna have a hell of a time on the road!"

"Hi," I had stiffened until he released me. I took a step back but smiled at him. A fake smile that was tight and showed too much teeth. "You must be Joey."

"The one and only," He then straightened up and saluted. "Let's do dinner soon. Before you two leave for the Big Apple. Get to know each other."

I had politely declined. When I left Theia at the end of the day, I was far too tired to go out. I used my time to sleep, not explore the city. I had a feeling that I would need the rest to face the upcoming days.

And sleep I did. Wonderful, long hours of unconsciousness without the nightmares that plagued me in Georgia. The doctors had asked Janet about them when I was in their care and she denied the events I had remembered. In typical Janet McRayne fashion, she created such a fuss that the questions concerning my mental state were dropped.

Perhaps, it's for the best. Time and distance - combined with hectic schedule of settling into a new life - had made them vanish. They faded away like smoke after a fireworks show, wispy until I could barely remember them. I'd like to think that my mother had been right. That my mind had been so twisted by the stress of graduating college that I had imagined horrible visions. Vivid scenes that no one could have survived. Scars created by my own self-loathing because anyone who would do what I had done was capable of anything.

No. I don't want to talk about that. Happy thoughts, remember? So I will begin by saying how much I adore my new home. It is open and shiny. Peaceful and quiet. If I could, I would spend every moment in that space and be happy.

A home I now have because of work. Because of the show. We are leaving for New York to attend a conference called Paracon. Since Elliot wants the show to focus on ghost hunting, it was only fitting that we start to drum up interest with those obsessed enough with the paranormal to attend a conference about it. My only concern is that we have yet to name the project. Elliot swears we don't have to be in a rush, but I wondered how we were going to drum up that interest if we didn't know what to tell them to watch or where to find it.

"Leave it to me," Elliot had laughed. "You just have to stand there and look pretty."

Look pretty. As if I were an ornament on a Christmas tree or a shiny toy on display in a store window. I kept quiet at his order as he went back to creating a spreadsheet of some sort. What could I have said? That I wasn't attractive? That I was far too thin and far too angular to play the porcelain doll he wanted so badly?

So this is what my life has become. A mess of pretending. Of ignoring the voice in my head screaming at me to run. I didn't like that voice. It was panicked. Scared. It was Evangelina's voice, not Eva's.

I would do the show. I would help it become a success even if that meant I did nothing at all except what Elliot demanded of me.

Look pretty.

***

I had never been to New York City before and I was enraptured by the life that flowed through this city. The small diners and carts that broke up the high rises. The bodies that pushed and prodded each other onward with their lives. I woke at dawn just to stand by the window in our hotel and watch the people below. Each were in their own little bubbles of cell phones and business calls. Yet, they still managed to move together like the group of salmon I had once seen on a nature documentary.

Elliot and I were housed in the hotel where the convention was being held, so I didn't have the opportunity to join the masses on the sidewalks. I would have blended in with them seamlessly. As invisible as ever. The thought terrified me somehow because if one was invisible, did they truly exist? If man created their own realities based on their perceptions of the world, did that mean the people they didn't know didn't exist?

I was broken out of my thoughts when Elliot knocked on my hotel door. I took in my appearance as I walked by the large mirror propped against the entry way wall. I had chosen jeans for this. Hiking boots since I knew I was going to be on my feet all day. My honey blonde hair highlighted with streaks of white contrasted bright and sharp against the dark blue t-shirt I wore. I was comforted by the sight of myself. I had always been drawn to the calming qualities of blue. I blamed it on the hours I had stolen from my studies to watch the ocean from my bedroom window. It's shades of blue and green and grey had been my inspiration. It's constant presence was a reminder that anything could withstand a storm.

Or a hurricane, which is what I felt my life had turned into. One large storm that tossed me around like a rag doll.

I opened the door before Elliot could knock again. His grin was so big, I was immediately suspicious.

"You look perfect." He clasped my hand and I used my free one to check my back pocket. I relaxed when I realized I had my driver's license and the room key. "Ready?"

"Yes." I responded as I closed the door to my room. "Lead the way, Elliot. I am right behind you."

CHAPTER THREE

"Are you sure we have to go to this?" I tugged at Elliot's sleeve like a child who was being forced to attend a doctor's visit. The closer we came to the area of the hotel where the conference was being held, the more I felt the need to run. I became breathless with my anxiety as Elliot patted my hand but he kept moving forward. "I can just make something up. I feel pretty sick at the moment and you always said I was good at coming up with excuses."

"It's just nerves. You got nothing to worry about." Elliot pushed me in front of him as we joined a mass of people who seemed incapable of forming actual lines. Instead, they chatted and hugged and meandered their way up to a long table crammed with manila envelopes. "If you behave, maybe we can skip out early this afternoon. Be tourists for a while."

"Does that mean I can't laugh at how ridiculous this is?"

"That's exactly what I mean." Elliot clasped my arm just above the elbow. I felt as if I were his marionette in that moment. Tied to him with invisible strings that he manipulated to make me dance or smile whenever he pleased. "You have to at least pretend to take their beliefs seriously for Grave Messages."

Grave Messages was the name of our new project though I wasn't sure what type of messages Elliot expected. If he wanted us to deliver the messages of the dead, I had no idea how he planned to do that. I hadn't seen any Ouija boards floating around the office. No tarot cards scattered across his desk.

“You know I can’t make any promises.” I was pushed towards the table by the crowd around us. I bumped into it when a man with a mohawk damn near fell over me in his haste to get to the front of the group. I managed to smile at the older woman handing out the name badges and shouted over the noise. “Eva McRayne.”

“Welcome, Ms. McRayne.” She handed me a manila envelope filled to the brim with papers and pamphlets. “Your name badge is inside as well as the schedule of events. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

I nodded then stepped aside so Elliot could repeat the process I just went through. We stepped through a pair of glass doors when he had his envelope in hand and I could have sworn I’d fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole. Although it was only nine in the morning, the place was swarming with people. Most were in groups, going from table to table with banners proclaiming the names of ghost hunting societies and psychics willing to sell the answers to all of your questions. Other tables were filled to their edges with merchandise of all kinds.

I suppose such crowds were normal at a convention. It was the patrons who gave me reason to feel so disoriented. For every one person dressed in jeans, there were three more dressed as witches or demons. There were more than a few girls dressed in fairy wings and angel costumes. Elliot had to raise his voice so that I could hear him over the crescendo of voices around us.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I think I’m overdressed.” I waved off a man in a silver alien costume handing out flyers as he started to approach me. “You didn’t say I needed to visit a Halloween store before we left L.A.”

He placed his hand on my lower back and led me towards an area where the organizers had set up benches for the conference goers to rest on.

“Come on. I want to take a look at this schedule. It’s packed.”

I opened the folder and pulled out the papers the moment we sat down. Connor had emailed this same document to us several days before but neither of us had taken the time to look it over. Elliot was right. For every time slot, there were three to four classes being offered. Everything from how to sell your spells to spirit photography was listed. At night, there was a promise of parties. Each night had an event lined up so the convention goers could get drunk and socialize with those of their own kind.

“So how long are we here for again?”

Elliot stopped marking on his paper but he didn’t look away from it. “Three days.”

"Alright. And what do you suggest we go to?” I had decided from the moment we stepped off the plane to let Elliot take the lead on this one. I knew if I didn’t, there would be no way I could trust myself to take any of this seriously. Even now, I wasn’t sure if I could. “Choose wisely. I swear, I will punch you if you say you want to go to the session about flying through the astral plane.”

“Today it’ll be the history of spirit photography, then video.” Elliot was back to making those marks on his paper. “And scrying. The presentation is led by Kathy Carter. It should be a very interesting day.”

“Scrying?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Sounds like a good way to clean your stove.”

“Hardy har.” Elliot smiled. “Look, Eva, I know you don’t believe in this. But maybe something here will change your mind.”

“Yeah?” I gestured towards the booth announcing that the Yeti had been found. “Like an authentic picture of a Yeti? Or the eighty-five year old woman who says she can give me the lottery numbers for a small donation?”

“Always go with the lottery numbers. Photographs can be altered.”

I didn’t realize he was joking until he grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the bench. “Come on. Spirit photography starts in twenty minutes. I want to get a good seat.”

“Oh, right. I can’t wait.” I mumbled as I let him drag me through the crowd. “Hey, did you know photographs can be altered? Maybe we should go get coffee instead.”

“I’ve heard about that somewhere before.” Elliot was still smirking when we found the conference room where the class was being held. “Remember, you promised not to laugh.”

“I promised to try. I was going to try not to laugh.” I made sure to stress my words as I collapsed in the first seat in the back row. “But you promised we could leave early if I didn’t. A deal is a deal, Eli. I’m holding you to it.”

“Shush, it’s starting.” Elliot lowered himself into the chair next to mine as the man behind us shut the door. I shifted down into my own, preparing myself for the boredom sure to come from a man droning on about cameras, lenses, and lighting techniques.

I was not disappointed.

***

I was ready to go back to my room and crash by the time Elliot's scrying class was supposed to begin. He was in his element with these people whether he was sharing jokes or debating theories. I suppose I should have been happy for him. He did an amazing job talking about the show and I wondered more than once if he had been training on promotions with Connor.

I tried to copy Elliot's enthusiasm but it became increasingly difficult the longer I was being smothered by the crowds and their excited utterances. More than once, I found myself desperately searching for the exits. More than once, Elliot's grip on my elbow kept me planted next to his side.

Breathe, I would tell myself. Breathe. You've survived worse than this.

The source of my anxiety was easy to pinpoint. I felt trapped by the people moving in tangent around us. I couldn't breathe because there were far too many people smothering me with their plastic costumes and fake weapons and glued on smiles. I knew my thoughts were ridiculous. I knew that there was plenty of air and no one here was trying to actively smother me.

One more session, I promised myself. One more session and you can escape this.

This was supposed to be the fun lesson. It was an introduction into one of the methods people use to contact the spirit world. So I pulled myself together once again and followed Elliot into the same conference room we had been in just that morning.

This time, it was packed. Elliot had to nudge his way through the crowd so we could grab the last two empty chairs by the aisle on the front row. When we were seated, I leaned over so he could hear me over the noise of those around us.

“This one must put on quite the show.”

"I’m not surprised. Kathy Carter is one of the most well known names in the paranormal field. She’s been doing this for decades.” Elliot leaned in until our heads were touching.

“Scrying has been around forever. But it’s making a resurgence these days.”

“You mean these things can fall out of favor?” I raised an eyebrow and he pulled back. I released a breath I didn't realize I had been holding in when he put some distance between us. “I thought trends were only for fashion and stockbrokers.”

“Not so, my dear. Not so.” Elliot chuckled. “I have to say I’m proud of you though.”

“Oh?” I smoothed out the front of my t-shirt then folded my fingers together in my lap. "For not ditching you here to go back to my room?”

“Yes. I know you've been eyeing the exits all day.”

He looked like he was going to say more, but he was interrupted by the small woman who walked up to the front of the room waving to her audience as if she were a queen. I had to admit she had a commanding presence. What I couldn’t believe was what Elliot had told me. The woman who turned to face us looked as if she were my age. Her thick black hair was pulled up in a bun on the back of her head. Her eyes were a strange golden color that gleamed as she looked us over. I wondered why she seemed so focused on us, but shrugged it off. We were right in her line of sight, after all. Maybe my day filled with all things spooky was starting to take its toll on me.

“When did she start scrying? In the cradle?” I whispered to Elliot before he could pull away. His only response was to nudge me in the ribs.

"Welcome, everyone.” The scryer raised her arms. “It is my hope that I will be able to educate you on the ancient art of scrying. Many believe it to be a divination technique, but that is not it’s only use.”

I took the pose I’d adopted through these sessions so far, lowering myself further down into the seat as the woman began to pace across the carpet in front of us. She paused just long enough to be considered dramatic.

“Scrying is not simply for divination. Certainly some sensitives claim to use mirrors or glass during their own practice, but this is not the original purpose. Scrying can be traced back to the ancient Greeks who used it as a method to contact the spirits of the Underworld.”

So this is why Elliot was so interested in attending this session. It wasn’t for fun. It was for work. Did he honestly think he was going to try this at our locations? On film? I kicked at his foot. As my luck would have it, I missed Elliot entirely and kicked the stand holding a laptop and projector instead.

The laptop bounced off the carpet. The PowerPoint slide shining against the wall behind her went black.

The scryer stopped in mid-speech. She searched the front row and pointed towards me. “It is time. By the gods, it is time.”

“Oh my God,” I knelt down to grab the laptop which had fallen against my foot. “I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how close I was to this thing. Let me see if I can put this back together.”

The woman gasped, clasping her hands over her heart in an overly dramatic gesture. I raised an eyebrow in Elliot’s direction before her next words snapped my attention back to the forefront of the room.

“You must be the one sent for me. Can you come up here please?”

I started shaking my head before she could finish her question. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I apologize for the interruption in your presentation.”

She gave me a patronizing grin as if she were sorry for me. “Presentation. Yes, it is that. Don’t be shy. You have been chosen. The gift of my long awaited death sent by the gods.”

“I'm no gift, lady.” I picked up my messenger bag then tugged the strap free from Elliot's foot. “I’ll just leave so you can continue.”

“Don’t be silly.” Kathy Carter’s smile grew brighter. “Everyone in this room has come here to see me. I meet hundreds of people at these conventions. But you must be special. Are you a sensitive?”

“A what?” I desperately wanted her to turn away from me. I may have been afraid of becoming invisible, but now that I wasn't, the spotlight seemed to scorch me. The scryer had stopped in front of me and crossed her arms. “Look, I’m not being sensitive about anything other than the fact you are embarrassing me in front of all these strangers. Now can you please move? I’d like to leave.”

“A sensitive. Someone who can sense things others cannot.” Kathy uncrossed her arms, glancing down at Elliot before turning her strange eyes back on me. “No matter. Your knowledge will come with time. Will you stand up, please?”

I could feel my temperature rising the longer I stood there. Her harassment was becoming too much for me to handle. I started searching the walls for an exit sign. I spotted it one above the door in the very back of the room. Of course there would only be one. And of course, it would be blocked by the hordes of people.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary. Aren’t you just going to give us your presentation and be done with it?”