William nodded.
The emotions from the group seemed to flow clockwise through her body, entering the side that held Lorna’s hand and leaving into Heather. They became a jumbled mass as if each person shared the other’s experiences. William was indeed nervous, more so than excited. Lorna was excited, but still a little nervous. Heather was worried about everyone, but not scared of her grandmother. And Vivien, well, she felt all of them more than she felt herself. It overwhelmed her, and she didn’t know what she was feeling.
Heather began to read, causing everyone to join in as they said in unison, “Spirits tethered to this plane we humbly seek your guidance. Spirits search amongst your numbers for the spirit we seek. We call forth Julia Warrick from the great beyond.”
Vivien watched the book, waiting for Julia to appear. When nothing happened right away, she glanced over her shoulder to the section where Heather said she saw her ancestor.
“I don’t…” Vivien turned back to the book. Julia had not appeared, but the faint sound of jazz came from someplace distant. “Do you hear that?”
“No,” William said.
“What?” Lorna asked.
“The clicking noise?” Heather inquired with a tilt of her head.
“No, it’s like,” Vivien strained to hear, “sultry…”
“Sultry?” Lorna repeated.
The music became louder as if drifting from an invisible orchestra pit. Vivien pulled her hands from Lorna and Heather and stood. “You can’t hear that? It’s like a burlesque.”
“Didn’t Julia dance burlesque?” Lorna asked.
“Oh, hell, no, I don’t want to see my grandma doing a striptease.” William shut his eyes tight, only to peek through a barely opened lid.
“Not all burlesque shows were stripteases,” Heather corrected.
Something took hold of Vivien’s arm, lifting it to the side. She heard a sound of cheering resonate over the music. She tried to turn to her friends, but the same force took hold of her hip, causing it to rotate seductively.
“Oh, hey, what—?” Before Vivien could get out a coherent question, the room filled with light and color. The music became loud, and she saw a crowd of men in suits and ladies in gowns standing from their seats as they clapped. She looked down as something hit her thighs. It was fringe from a sparkly flapper dress. High heels lifted her ankles, so she felt like she put all her weight on her toes.
Her head jerked up, and her body began to move against her will. A smile forced its way over her mouth as she grinned. She swung her arms, kicked her legs, and shuffled her feet back and forth in time to the music. There was no way Vivien would have known this routine or half the moves her body performed, but here she was, dancing burlesque in the Warrick Theater like it was the 1920s.
A smoky female voice began to sing, but Vivien’s heart pounded loudly in her ears and she barely heard the words. She felt more than saw other dancers with her. They stayed just behind her peripheral. People cheered. She tried to call out for her friends, but something had taken over her body and her consciousness was just along for the ride.
Someone grabbed her hips from behind, and she was lifted into the air, her feet kicking high over her head before she was set back down. The force of it caused her to fall forward.
Whatever it was let go of her, and she was caught by Lorna and Heather. The music and cheering stopped. Colors faded into the darkness of the theater in modern-day.
“What was that?” Heather asked. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”
Vivien breathed hard, and her heart pounded wildly. The dancing had been like a drug, a breathtaking, intoxicating feeling, and for a second, she wished the ride wasn’t over. There had been freedom in the performance.
The sound of dancing feet in a music-less room caught her attention. Vivien turned to look behind her. The transparent image of Julia continued to perform the dance. But it was not Julia as she remembered her, not the grandmother in the floral-print dresses. This Julia was young and vibrant, and incredibly flexible. She swung her leg up and around with ease.
William had a sick look on his face. He covered his mouth as he watched his grandmother lean over and shake her booty for the nonexistent crowd. “Please tell me I’m not seeing this. I’m going to have to poke my eyes out later if she takes her… omigod.”
Julia reached behind her and unzipped her dress. She grabbed the hem and began to pull it over her head.
“Grandma!” Heather scolded before Julia could show her retro bra and panties. “Come on.”
The sound of Heather’s voice appeared to pull Julia from the memory. Julia disappeared, and the dress dropped to the floor before it also vanished.
“Where did she go? Is she gone?” William asked. “Is it too late to take back wanting to see her?”
“Is that what you meant when you talked about a residual haunting?” Lorna asked. “Ghost do things from the past, but they can’t really control it?”
“No, she can control it, and I have never seen her do that before,” Heather said. “Julia is not a residual haunting. She is very much aware of what she does.”
“What if we broke her?” Lorna asked. “What if the demon did something to her soul? You said she wasn’t as strong.”
“That doesn’t explain why Viv suddenly knew how to dance like that.” Heather stayed close to Vivien, as if afraid she would start dancing again.
“It’s like she was possessed,” William suggested.
“That’s not funny,” Lorna said.
William went to his girlfriend and cupped her face. He gave her a quick, reassuring kiss.
“I don’t think he’s wrong,” Vivien put forth. “I couldn’t control my body. It felt like somebody wore me like a suit, forcing me to do those things. I had no say. It was fun, but I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know how I stopped.”
“Sorry that was me.” The voice came from beside the book. “It’s been so long since I inhabited a body, and I couldn’t resist when I found one open to possession.”
Vivien turned at the sound.
Julia still didn’t appear the way Vivien remembered her. She was younger, more like the pictures she had seen in Heather’s old trunk of family photos. Julia wore a pantsuit with high-waisted trousers and what looked to be a smaller version of a man’s shirt and suit vest. A gold chain dangled from one of her vest pockets. There was always something glamourous about how women looked in the 1920s, with finger-waved, bobbed haircuts and deep red lipstick. Even with her translucent state muting the colors, Vivien saw the details of Julia’s face.
“Grandma Julia?” William slowly crept forward and lifted his hand to feel the air around the spirit.
Julia faced her grandson and lifted her hand to hover near his. She didn’t touch him. “Look at you, Mr. Hard-boiled.”
“Um, Heather?” William asked, leaning away as Julia moved her hand closer to him.
“Does she normally look like this?” Vivien asked.
“Sometimes.” Heather gave a long sigh. “Her clothes and age change. This incarnation is a bit of a handful.”
“You never said.” Vivien thought Grandma looking like a 1920s bootlegger would have warranted a mention.