Beneath

Chapter Two:

"You should come out with us tonight," Sarah said, inspecting the rack of SkinnyPop. I slid a bottle of Merlot into my cart, shaking my head back and forth.

"That's a bad idea, and you know why." Two tubs of Greek yogurt, or one? I eyed my ever-expanding midsection mournfully. One. But I'm hitting up the ice cream section next, and don't you dare try to stop me, Buddha-belly!

"Emma, you can see spirits. Do you realize how rare a find that is in a ghost hunting group?"

"Can you keep your voice down?" I hissed, eyes darting around the store. "I don't want everyone in here to think I'm bat-shit insane, alright? I have a gift, sure, but I'm not a fan of every soul in that cemetery making a move on me for the sake of our group. You don't have to live with this every single day, Sarah," I added as she opened her mouth to protest. "You don't know what it's like to have a life and not have a life, all at the same time. There's a reason I try my best to block them out, and why I haven't been with you on a single investigation so far, despite your pestering."

"One hour," she begged, tugging my shirt sleeve. "One hour in the cemetery with us, and afterward, you can go home and watch as many Originals re-runs as you want to."

I groaned, rolling my eyes skyward as we turned down the next aisle. I didn't want to tell her how freaked out I was by the thought of willingly romping through a place I knew would be jam-packed with souls, who would probably like nothing more than to overwhelm me like they did last year when a group of souls surrounded me in Laurelhurst Park, or make me toss my walls up again like I'd been attempting to do every day for the past eight years. Sarah wasn't a great friend by any stretch of the imagination; I wouldn't go as far as to call her a toxic friend, though some of the things she said and did to me fit the profile, but with the spirit world constantly on my tail, and with Grandma popping in and out of my life randomly, keeping friends wasn't as easy as it should be for a normal person, and she at least pretended to care most of the time.

For a normal person.

Gods. What crazy-ass mofo decided I was worth giving these gifts to? Did they think I'd actually use them? Why?

"One hour, then I'm out," I said as she smiled gleefully. "You're obnoxious."

"You love me, just admit it," she said as we approached the checkout line. "I'm stealing your Wheat Thins." She grabbed the box from the belt as the checker glanced from her to me and back again.

"She's not, she was kidding," I said, giving her a thin-lipped smile as I tried to wrench the box out of Sarah's grip. She tore the top off, plunging her hand into the bag. "And, awe, love you too, Sarah, about as much as a plantar wart. You owe me four dollars."

"Technically, she owes you eight," the checker said, pointing to Sarah, who was busy attempting to stuff a whole sleeve of doughnuts into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She caught my annoyed glance and smiled, wheat goo oozing between her teeth. "You love me, right?"

***

I parked my car along the curb, idling for a minute as I stared out across the cemetery grounds. My recorder lay on the passenger seat, along with my Maglite, hoodie and waterproof jacket. I didn't like the odds of coming away from tonight unscathed, especially since I was still drained from my run-in with Grandma and Hades in the park. In the two days since the incident, I hadn't been able to do any earth magic, though I tried several times. It wasn't gone, I could still feel it simmering in the background, waiting for me to want it, but based on what happened last time, did I want it to come back? And now, on top of it all, I was willing to subject myself to a cemetery's worth of energy-sapping souls? Nuh-uh. I should've said 'no' to Sarah. I really should've.