Ghosts ⚔️ Blackbeard's Treasure

Chapter 20

"Miss Blair, would it be possible to speak to my abuela tonight?" The Super raises his chin, expectantly.

"I'm sorry, Paco, but I doubt your abuela's spirit would want to socialize with those I'm summoning. They're ancient and most likely dangerous."

"To her, or us?" I frown, remembering the difficulty Blair's aunt Regina experienced preforming the last seance I attended. "Your aunt had years of experience, but had trouble controlling even one malignant spirit."

"That wasn't my aunt. That was an imposter."

I hold up my hands, palms forward. "You're contacting two spirits. Are you sure this is safe?"

"I know what I'm doing, Lizzie." She throws me a scathing glance. Aunt Ahti's warning surfaces in my mind—that her niece's unchecked power might consume her. I look at the Wiccan things Blair has used to transform the kitchen into a war room. Our seance is the tip of a psychic spear. If anything goes wrong, as the psychic, I'll be the one skewered by this chaotic magic.

When everyone's seated, she orders Caesar under the table. The black dog circles once, then lays down with a discontented whine. She takes a tin of mysterious black powder, that looks like powdered charcoal, and pours a two inch thick circle on the floor, encircling the table. Her curtain of hair falls forward, covering her cheek bones, as she surrounds the first circle with salt then takes a tin of red powder to create a six pointed star inside of it. "Be careful not to move your feet and disturb the protective hexagram," she warns, placing six, lighted black candles at the tip of each point.

Paco's face falls as he examines her work. "A pentagram? Devil worshipers use those."

Blair flips her hair off her face and onto her shoulders. "This is a six-pointed star, not five. It's called the Seal of Solomon and is used as protection against evil. In Alchemy, it symbolizes the union of opposites. It's considered to be the symbolic epitome of as above, so below. If anything evil shows up, it will reverse the hexing power."

Paco's rubbery face grows pale. "Anything evil? I think I'd better leave."

"You can't leave this seance." Blair sends him a stern prison matron look. "It would be like exiting a roller coaster after it leaves the gate. Do you want to be hurled into an abyss of darkness?"

Paco mutters something that sounds like wicked witch under his breath, hunching his shoulders. "I'll have to trust you that I'm in good hands." His unease is contagious.

The ghost I saw earlier was darker than night. What if it's hovering beside me. It doesn't behave like the other spirits I've encountered. It flies under my psychic radar. Maybe because it's over three hundred years old? What tricks of deception has it learned? I try to swallow and discover my mouth has gone dry.

Blair signals Dylan, who's sitting next to the kitchen switch, to turn off the lights. The room is plunged into darkness. The open layout of the loft apartment feels like a cavernous crypt, but inside the Pentagram, I feel constricted as concentrated psychic energy builds—pulsing with the magnetic heartbeat of the planet. She deftly pours three shot glasses of ghost rum and places them in the table's center. Paco reaches for one and she slaps his hand. "These aren't for us—they're sacred offerings for the deceased."

"Oh, sorry," He puts his hand to his mouth.

She adds a pinch of crystalline blue substance to each drink. "Our Human Energy Fields power the Seal of Solomon, electromagnetically charging this sacred circle. Whatever happens, don't break physical contact with each other. The Seal will go offline. And DO NOT disturb the protective hexagram."

We join hands and Blair starts chanting a rhythmic incantation. After fifteen minutes, she pauses. I strain my ears, not knowing if the refrigerator has stopped running, or I can't hear its humming inside the circle. Suddenly, a rushing sound fills the silence. An unseen draft of sea air engulfs us, lifting the hair off my shoulders. The distinct sound of boots walking on plank floors thud over our heads, while the ghost rum glows an effervescent green.

"Blair." My voice is tight. "It's here." I fight the urge to crawl under the table with Caesar.

The only light in the apartment comes from the circle of six flickering flames at our feet. Under the table, Caesar whines, then starts barking. I wonder if he's sounding an alarm, or a greeting? I stiffen, scanning the darkness. A bell chimes, softly. We all gasp as one of the glasses of rum ignites with a crematorium blue pilot's flame. A second, higher toned chime follows and the second glass magically ignites. "Mi against fa is the devil in music," Dylan whispers. "That's a flattened-fifth note. How do you harmonize with that?" As if in answer, a final diminished bell rings. The fire above the last glass crowns the white hot pyre of glowing flames.

"How do you know it's Blackbeard's ghost." I shiver, staring at the flames hungrily licking the rum.

Blair's eyes glitter in the dark. "I researched his habits. Blackbeard was famous for adding gunpowder to his rum and setting it on fire before he drank it." She leans forward and pours more alcohol onto the flames.