Page 24 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

Derek didn’t flinch. While my spine stiffened at every flicker and whisper, he stayed focused, calm and steady.

“Just trust the process,” he said without looking at me.

Something about that low voice made me believe him—more than I wanted to admit.

As we settled in, the attic’s icy walls felt closer than before, squeezing the breath from the room and thickening the air with dread. The candles, freshly lit, tossed shadows across the walls like restless spirits testing the boundaries of the circle.

Katie’s voice—usually bright and bouncy—dropped into something low and unfamiliar, a timbre that felt like it could summon the living, the dead… and whatever waited in between.

We held our breath. The only sound was the soft popping of wax and wick.

A breeze—cold and inexplicable—kissed the flames, making them shiver.

Shadows danced harder. Katie’s gaze locked on the corner where a woman sobbed softly, her form shimmering in and out like a mirage.

She wore a glowing white dress, thin as fog.

Her hair clung to her face like seaweed, and black mascara streaked her cheeks like ink bleeding down parchment.

She reached out to Derek, hand trembling, eyes pleading with a grief so raw it practically burned.

He shifted beside me, posture steady, but eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Slowly, he extended his hand toward her—just enough that his fingers brushed the space where hers should’ve been.

His hand passed through. He winced. Not from fear, from empathy.

Then his eyes cut to mine—searching, asking, without a word.

Was I seeing this too? Did I feel it?

I nodded barely. Yeah. I did.

“Thank you for joining us, but your presence is not needed at this time. Please move on.” Katie commanded the sobbing ghost.

As the séance went on, I felt myself slipping under its spell.

One by one, they came—two lovers tangled in sorrow, lost children whispering for home, even family pets padding through the circle, their energy strange but unmistakably real. But not him. No sign of Uncle Silas.

Katie suddenly lurched back, her eyes glassy and wide, staring straight through the ceiling, unsure of what world she was in.

“Don’t touch her,” Derek warned, calm but clipped. His eyes though, flickered with genuine worry. He knelt beside her, pulling a joint from his jacket like it was something that might ward off whatever the hell we’d stirred up.

I remembered all those stories—witches and mystics who flew too close to the veil, only to get swallowed by what they tried to summon.

Whatever tethered Katie to that side was delicate. Break the tether wrong, and who knew what might come through with her.

Katie’s eyes finally fluttered open, but they quickly closed again. Her chest rose with a shallow breath, like she’d just swam up from the bottom of a deep lake.

I sat cross-legged in front of her, Chester curled in my lap.

Derek started packing up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Maybe we should head downstairs. It’s not pretty when she comes to.” The joint bobbed between his lips as he spoke.

“I’m not leaving her,” I said without thinking.

I didn’t know her well, not really—but something about her made me want to stick around.

Derek shrugged, a half-smirk tugging at his lips as he raised both hands in a mock surrender.

“Suit yourself,” he said, eyes glinting. “But when she hurls—and she will— you better hope it’s not in your direction. That girl’s got range.” He turned and headed down the stairs without a care, the creaking of the wooden steps echoing behind him.

Finally, Katie stirred. Her voice was thin, but steady. “I’m here,” she whispered, blinking up at me. “I don’t feel sick this time, but… can I get some water?”

Relief hit me like a wave. I pulled her into a hug. “Yeah, let’s get you something to drink.”

With her arm draped over my shoulder, we took it slow down both flights. She was shaky, but solid.

The moment we hit the first floor, something shifted. The air from the attic still clung to us, heavy and stale, like we’d brought something down with us. Shadows stretched across the floor like they’d been waiting.

“I just need a minute,” Katie murmured, settling onto the step that led into the sunken kitchen.

I grabbed one of the delicate teacups from the butcher block and filled it with mineral water from the fridge, the glass clinking gently as I handed it to her.

“I’m so thirsty,” she muttered, then drank like she hadn’t had water in days.

“Here.” I refilled the cup and handed it back.

“Thanks, Maggie.” She cupped it in both hands like she needed warmth, even though it was cold.

Derek dropped down beside her, his bag thunking against the floor.

“I don’t get it,” he frowned. “Why didn’t Silas come through?” He struck his Zippo with one thumb and lit the joint.

Katie’s words spilled out in a rush, her voice breathy, almost reverent, like maybe she didn’t know if she should say it out loud.

“I don’t know how to describe it, but… it felt like I was engulfed .

Like something alive wrapped around me—ready to fuck me at any moment.

” Her eyes flicked up, a cheeky twinkle glinting in them.

The smile that followed was nothing but trouble.

I didn’t even try to hide the look on my face. “Seriously?”

Her grin widened, feeding off my doubt like it was foreplay.

“Not entirely. But there was something. Energy, maybe. Invisible, but totally real.” She plucked the joint from Derek’s lips and took a slow drag.

“I just can’t tell who or what it was.” She leaned in, her voice conspiratorial.

“But I’m not done. We’ll try again in a few hours—let the spirits catch their breath.

” Katie exhaled in my face and held out the joint. The smoke stung my nose.

I waved it away and shot her a look. “Oh, well, that’s reassuring.”

As I offered Katie more water, I raised a brow. “Are you sure about tonight? You looked like death warmed over five minutes ago. And now you’re stoned.”

She shook her head, calm and stubborn and handed the cup back.

I set it in the sink.

She locked eyes with me, something fierce flickering under the surface. “I’m fine.”

Derek took a slow drag from his joint, the tip glowing bright red before he exhaled a thin stream of smoke. He then leaned back on his elbows, lazily sprawling across the worn armchair with a sleepy grin.

“Come on, Maggie—it’s called focused relaxation,” his smirk widened as he glanced at Katie with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, humming softly, her eyes half-closed, as though still caught in the remnants of a daydream.

Derek seemed far too satisfied with himself.

And me?

I stood by the butcher block, arms folded tightly across my chest, while the sharp tang of cedar and the pungent skunk scent filled the kitchen, anxiously awaiting the appearance of my dead uncle.