Chapter Seventeen
Whentheelectricalcrewdeserted him, spooked by tools that seemed to move of their own volition and lights that flickered despite having the whole damn building rewired, Xander threw in the towel. Literally—he shut off the washroom’s new faucet and chucked his soggy hand towel at the rumbling, quaking pipes.
“Okay, Gus, you win this round. Time to fire up the big guns. I’m calling Zora.”
He hesitated before texting Hannah as well. On the one hand, involving her in this weird ride might open the can of aliens again, and he’d been enjoying their truce on that subject. On the other hand, she’d probably find Zora’s ghost-removal process fascinating. Come to think of it, Hannah made an excellent filter between his skepticism and Trappers Cove’s…well, quirkiness was a polite word for it.
Zora’s coming at one to deal with my ghost problem. Want to come?
They arrived together. While the psychic set up her paraphernalia, Xander huddled with Hannah behind the cosmic transmitter, now covered with a paint-speckled tarp.
“Listen, Han, you’re not going to write this up for theBeacon, are you?”
“Of course not,” she answered with a huff. “This is a private family matter.”
“Right, it’s between me and Gus’s ghost, who seems determined to drive away all my workers.”
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “So you believe in ghosts now?”
“The contractors damn sure do.” He circled a hand overhead, indicating the abandoned ladders and paint trays, gaping holes in the drywall, and crumpled tarps. “And I don’t know how else to explain this. As soon as we fix a problem, it breaks again—the plumbing, the wiring, the tippy shelves.”
This morning, he’d set a folder down on Gus’s old desk—he was absolutely certain of that—and found it across the building under a worker’s toolbox. The guy swore he hadn’t put it there, much less even seen it.
“It’s like Gus is sabotaging me from beyond the grave.” He sank onto an overturned storage crate and massaged his tense shoulders, a task Hannah quickly took over, much to his enjoyment.
He leaned into her touch. “Gus loved me. I was his favorite freakin’ nephew. Why would he leave me the business and do his damnedest to thwart the renovations?”
Zora stepped up, holding three bunches of dried leaves. “Supernatural activity often peaks during construction in haunted buildings.” At least a dozen silver bracelets jangled on her wrists as she gesticulated. “Spirits attach to a specific place because they have unfinished business there. And we all know how much Gus loved this shop. It must be very hard for him to watch you tear it apart, even if it’s necessary.”
Xander envisioned Gus floating above their heads, his beefy arms crossed, scowling beneath his walrus mustache.
I am well and truly losing my mind.
Hannah hugged herself and shivered. “I can feel his presence. It’s like the air is thick in here, full of static electricity.”
Zora patted Hannah’s arm. “Our job is to reassure Gus, so he’ll feel safe moving on. Now, let’s begin by asking what he wants from you.”
Xander fought an eye roll and lost the battle. “Sure, of course. Why not? Let’s chat with my dead uncle.”
Zora shot him a sharp look. “First rule of communicating with spirits—be polite.”
He chuffed a sigh. “Sorry, Gus. No disrespect intended.”
“That’s better.” She pulled a piece of jewelry from the pocket of her embroidered kaftan. “Sometimes, a ghost doesn’t even know it’s passed over. Gus died suddenly, yes?”
Xander nodded. “Aneurysm.”
“So let’s make sure he’s aware of his ghostly state.” She held the slender silver chain between her index finger and thumb. Dangling from it, a dark blue stone carved into a point hovered over her palm. “Sodalite is especially good for communicating with the spirit realm.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply until the stone hung motionless. “Right, here we go. A circle means yes, and a back-and-forth movement means no.”
A tiny scoff escaped Xander’s lips. Hannah elbowed him.
“You want proof?” With a low laugh, Zora intoned, “Is Xander Anagnos here?”
The crystal thingy shuddered and began to sway. Soon, its point was inscribing a clear circle in the air over her palm.
Xander wasn’t impressed. With practice and subtle hand motions, anyone could make that stone rotate or sway or dance the macarena.
Zora raised one eyebrow. “Your skeptical vibes are not helping, son. Here—try it yourself.”
