‘Is that it? Is that all you can tell me?’ Beth shouted into the empty space. Her hands were shaking, whether in fear or frustration she didn’t know.
Tell him. The words were loud in her mind now. You are supposed to work together. Stop her.
Silence. As though a door had closed, the space she had assumed was empty now felt like a yawning void. The presence had gone, leaving her alone with the words that chilled her to her core.
Switching on the answer machine, she grabbed her coat and went into the hall, locking the office door behind her. She took the stairs two at a time and dodged through the crowds on the street, making her way to the Third Eye Spiritualist Shop. Jonan was behind the counter when she arrived. Doriel was nowhere to be seen.
‘Jonan, can we talk?’ she said, as he served a woman with a stack of crystal bracelets looped around her arm.
He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers.
The woman tutted.
‘Let me clear this queue,’ he said, his lips curled up slightly at the edges, as though he was trying not to smile. ‘Have a look around.’
Beth wandered around the aisles. Huge crystals sat at various points around the room, purple, yellow and white. There were shelves of tarot cards and books, stands with crystal pendants and dream catchers. In this place, Beth felt relaxed. The energy was so different to the office and a world away from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the Monk’s Inn. A light pressure settled in the middle of her forehead as she tuned into the sensations the shop awakened in her.
‘Is everything okay?’
Beth swung around, startled out of her daydream. Jonan stood so close that he was almost touching her. She stepped back instinctively, and then wished she hadn’t. The air that had felt warm on her skin was now cold, but she didn’t feel she could move back without being obvious. ‘Can we talk?’
‘We can, but I need to stay down in the shop. Doriel’s doing readings.’
‘I don’t mean to sound crazy, but I just had a conversation with the ghost in my office.’
‘And?’ Jonan’s face was serious with no hint of mockery.
‘She said Amelia wants to use the spirits in the hotel. Any idea what that might mean?’
‘Did she now?’ Jonan leaned back against a bookshelf. His eyes glazed as he stared past her right ear. His forehead gathered slowly into a frown, and then he stood up straight. ‘Of course,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before.’
‘Think of what?’
‘Will you take me to the hotel? Doriel only has one more client, so I’ll be done in an hour. Presumably you can visit the venue in work time?’
‘Of course. Is something wrong?’
‘I just want to test out a theory. I have an idea what your ghostly friend may have meant, but I want to visit first and see if it fits.’
The bells on the door jingled as a man in a suit walked into the shop and stood in the middle of the room looking lost.
‘Do you need some help, sir?’ Jonan winked at Beth, turned to the man and led him over to shelves as they talked.
Beth couldn’t face going back to the office, but there was a coffee shop across the pedestrianised walkway that she’d never tried. She pushed the door open, closing her eyes and inhaling the heavenly smell of coffee and the sweet tang of sugar. The place was buzzing, but there was one small table with a single chair squeezed into a space that should probably have been left empty. She breathed in as she slid into the seat, apologising as the woman behind shot her a filthy look when their chairs touched. She rolled her eyes. What was wrong with people? Why were they were so antagonistic? The waitress took her order, and moments later presented her with a huge slice of coffee cake, laden with far too much butter icing and rows of walnuts. She scooped some up on her fork and tasted it, sighing as the sugar sparked her system.
The file in front of her was not so exciting. She opened it at the scruffy green Post-it note, her heart sinking at the rows of costs that assaulted her sense of peace. Surely there must be more to life than adding up someone else’s expenses? She smiled as the woman brought her coffee, but kept her focus on the paper in front of her, determined to nail this job as quickly as possible and move on to something more interesting.
‘What are you so angry about?’ A voice at the table next to hers cut through her thoughts. ‘You’re always cross about something.’
‘No I’m not,’ said the woman to the right of Beth. She had long salt-and-pepper hair tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, and a blouse with a crumpled collar that hadn’t been turned down at the back. ‘I’m not angry; I’m just fed up of you not taking me seriously.’
‘I take you seriously,’ the man said. His grey hair was badly in need of a haircut, and the skin around his neck sagged. He pursed his crinkled lips for a moment. ‘It’s that woman I don’t trust. She’s just another celebrity trying to get attention, that’s all. All this nonsense about spirits, honestly!’
Beth smiled. Maybe she had been right after all. Amelia was too way-out to get proper attention in the real world.
‘It’s not just her,’ the woman said. Her voice was strained as though her teeth were clenched. Beth glanced over and saw her knuckles turning white where she gripped the seat of her wooden chair. ‘I had a dream. It was real, I know it was. One of them came for me.’
‘Have you been drinking again?’
Beth watched them surreptitiously. The man’s eyes were narrowed, his head turned to the side as he looked at his wife with obvious suspicion. ‘You know what red wine does to you. I wish you wouldn’t drink the stuff. You’re paranoid.’
‘No I have not been drinking.’ The woman stood up. ‘If you don’t believe me, there’s no point in us having this conversation.’ She hooked her quilted jacket and navy handbag over the crook of her elbow. She caught Beth’s eye as she turned her back to her companion and pursed her lips. Her cheeks reddened.
‘And what do you want?’ she said, leaning her free hand on Beth’s table, bending down so her face was close. ‘Want to see what someone looks like after they’ve been preyed on by a horrifying spirit?’
‘Good lord, no,’ Beth said, pushing her chair backwards. ‘Honestly, I’m with your husband. You had a dream, nothing more. And believe me, I’m used to ghosts.’
‘Huh!’ the woman said, and then turned and strode out the door.
‘I’m sorry. Please don’t hold it against her,’ the man said, picking up his newspaper, folding it and tucking it under his arm. ‘That Amelia’s got her terrified. She’s imagining horrors around every corner. And being in this blasted town doesn’t help. She’s always been a bit of a ghost-hunter. Now she sees them everywhere.’
‘Don’t worry. Amelia’s getting to people, I can see that.’
‘It’s not right that she stirs up this fear. Blasted woman. I wish they’d take her off the airwaves.’
‘I hope your wife feels better soon,’ Beth said, nodding at the man. As he walked past, she caught a glimpse of the headline.
VULNERABLE WOMAN ATTACKED BY AGGRESSIVE SPIRITS
Beth stared after him, and then glanced at the clock. The hour was almost up. She put her coat on the seat and wound her way to the toilet at the back of the cafe. As she went, she peered over people’s shoulders, reading the headlines on their newspapers, phones and tablets. Almost everyone was reading about Amelia. The woman serving behind the counter was wearing a large crucifix over her apron. Another had a pentagram pendant. Beth’s heart rate began to rise as she relaxed her protections, testing out the vibe in the cafe. There was only fear.