Page 40 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

I’d never seen myself move like this—so smug, so theatrical. Watching my own body strut and smirk like a bastardized Broadway villain was enough to make me nauseous. But I had to keep reminding myself: this wasn’t me.

Silas ran my hand through my hair in a weirdly tender motion, like he was getting comfortable in his new suit. “Apologies, my dear,” he said with a cantankerous laugh. “What I meant to say was—only the adventurous ones get the five-finger special.”

If I could have clawed my way out of my own chest, I would have. Then ripped my arm off and beat him with it.

Maggie looked like she wanted to peel his face off— my face. Her lips twisted, eyes narrowing, and I could feel the panic rise behind her glare. She was scared, furious, maybe even heartbroken. And I couldn’t reach her. I was right there and still locked out.

A loud thud snapped us toward the corner of the attic, where Derek and Katie were up to their elbows in cracked leather tomes and dusty parchment.

“We might have something!” Derek called out, practically vibrating.

“Great! We need to get Silas out of Graham’s body before he does anything stupid,” Maggie said, her voice cracking with urgency. “Anything on exorcisms?”

“Exorcisms?” Silas arched one of my brows. “You think you can just banish me?”

The smirk that curled on my lips made me want to punch myself.

“You don’t have the slightest idea what’s going on here,” Silas said, amused like we were all children. “Besides, you can find everything you need to know about this in the stairwell to the study,” he added.

Maggie blinked. “There’s no stairwell to the study.”

“Oh,” he grinned. “You mean you haven’t found it yet?” His voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “Well then. I’m rather proud of that one.”

Katie stepped in close and placed both hands on my shoulders. “Silas—darling—we don’t have time for that now. What are you talking about?”

Silas blinked. The way his spine straightened and his lip curled?

That was offense taken, clear as day. “Good Lord, I’m not your darling!

” he huffed, brushing invisible lint off my shirt like he’d just been accused of sleeping with the help.

“At least let me have a few drinks before we discuss commitment.”

I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t screaming internally.

“Uncle Silas—please. The stairwell?” Maggie cut in, her voice raw and urgent.

“Oh, yes.” He turned to her like she was the only competent person in the room.

“It’s an old servant’s passage between my study and this attic.

I’m surprised you didn’t notice it, considering it’s right out in the open.

” He nodded toward the far side of the room, all showmanship and drama.

“In fact, the house is filled with them.”

Then he had the audacity to nudge Chester from the rug with his foot.

I felt it. That sharp flick of disdain, like someone kicking your best friend.

Chester hissed, low and rattling, but moved with stiff-legged insult, tail lashing like a whip.

And that— that— was when it really hit me.

I wasn’t just trapped. I was violated . My body was a puppet, used to push around someone who trusted me, someone who knew me. It made my stomach churn.

Silas kicked the old rug aside, revealing a wooden trapdoor flush with the floor. There was only the tiniest groove—a finger-width sliver that gave it away.

“I never got around to installing lights, though,” he said, like he was giving us a tour of his vacation home instead of dragging us into a hidden corridor of supernatural wisdom.

He gestured for Maggie to go first, because of course he did.

She pulled out her phone and flicked the flashlight on, the beam cutting across the darkness. The walls? Lined with shelves. Books stacked top to bottom, some leather-bound, some cracked and flaking at the edges. The smell hit next—paper, dust, old incense.

“Why do you have books on poltergeists, demons, vampires, and werewolves?” Maggie asked, casting the light across a row of spines. “I thought you were a private investigator, not a paranormal investigator.”

“I was,” Silas answered, stepping past them, reaching for a specific book— Nox Animae. His fingers brushed the spine like it was an old lover.

Then he pulled it out, turned, and held it out to Maggie.

She reached for it.

“Uh-uh,” he said, clutching the book to my chest. “This isn’t a checkout at the local library, my dear.”

This motherfucker…

“You have to promise me one thing, Magdalene,” Silas said, my mouth forming the words with a softness that tasted fake.

His face—the way he made my facial muscles into his own—tightened, like he was trying to mimic sincerity.

“You have to promise you won’t banish me.

I’m not quite ready to be gone for good. ”

She hesitated, hand midair. “O…okay? But you can’t stay in Graham.”

No shit. The faster he’s gone, the better.

My fingers loosened around the book, the weight passing to hers like a peace offering.

“I have many things to teach you, dear,” he said, puffing his chest like he’d just been knighted, “I could be of use to your investigation.”

“I was hoping that,” Maggie muttered, “but I never thought you’d possess someone.”

“That was a last-minute decision, darling. The time was getting close for me to… move on, and I’m just not there yet.” He sighed, shoulders dropping, putting on a woe-is-me act. “It was selfish. I know. But I also knew Graham could handle it. He’s strong.”

If I’d had control of my face, I would’ve rolled my damn eyes.

“What I didn’t know,” Silas added, “was that his grandmother was going to show up and weaken him.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide, panic crawling up her throat. “Wait, what? Weaken him? What do you mean? Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh yes, yes,” he said, “He’ll be quite alright. After we separate, he may be a little… different for a few days. It’s completely normal. Think of it as spiritual jet lag.”

I could feel her eyes on me, searching my face for Graham —but I was buried under six feet of proper decorum and bullshit.

She looked up the stairs to Derek and Katie. The experts. Except the way they glanced at each other with tight-lipped sympathy made it clear they were flying just as blind as we were.

“Okay,” Maggie said slowly, her voice still unsure. “Well… if you can help with the investigation, that’d be great. I’d like to move on with my life. Did you see who murdered the man in the woods?”

Silas gave her a look like someone just asked him what color the sky was. “I thought you knew that already. The man who came to the house the first night you summoned me.”

“Custer?” Maggie’s voice sharpened.

“Yes, of course. I thought your boyfriend told you that when the two of you were busy playing with your collection of silicone phalluses.”

My soul screamed inside my body like a man tied into a chair watching his life explode on the other side of a window. If I ever got control again, I was going to have to explain that comment. Or kill him. Or both.

“What?!” Derek barked from the top of the stairs. “I am surrounded by sexual deviants.”

He stared down toward us with the same exasperation he probably used on uncooperative EMF readers.

“Derek, shush—it wasn’t like that!” Maggie snapped, cheeks flushed so hard I could feel the heat radiating off her even from over here. “And how did you even know that?”

Silas grinned. “Well, my dear, I am a ghost. I don’t have to appear to see things.”

Derek raised a brow, deadpan. “That’s comforting. Spectral voyeurism. Bet you’re real fun at slumber parties.”

I swear, if I ever get full control back, I’m salting and burning my body just to make sure this pompous bastard can’t crawl back inside.

“So that clears it up then—Custer’s the murderer. Case closed.” Maggie clapped her hands together like she wanted to wrap this horror story with a bow.

“Not exactly,” Silas said, twirling my body like he was mid-soliloquy. “We still need to know why he did it, and if anyone else was involved. Like Graham showed you… there were three other bodies connected to him. And let’s not forget—we need to figure out who murdered me. ”

I felt Maggie pause behind me. “You? You weren’t murdered, Uncle Silas… you died from a heart attack induced by the coughing fit you had while in the hospital for a severe case of pneumonia.”

Silas scoffed, indignant. “I beg to differ!” He shoved past them up the stairs. “Every man in this family has lived to be 102 years old—and the downgrade of our life expectancy is not starting with me.”

Derek tilted his head, leaning lazily against an old steamer trunk. “Sure. Eighty-three? Practically a crib death.”

Maggie’s voice followed, half chiding. “Uncle Silas… eighty-three is a ripe old age. You should be proud to have made it that long.”

“I was murdered, Maggie. I know it!” Silas thundered, ripping Nox Animae from her hands and slamming it onto the book pile like he expected it to confess.

Derek folded his arms, face unreadable except for the twitch of one eyebrow. “Then why don’t you know who did it? Or do ghosts have selective memory?”

Silas waved him off. “It’s not like they stabbed me. Clearly, I was poisoned. It’s the only logical explanation.”

And then—everything shifted.

My knees buckled.

For a second, everything tilted sideways. Like someone yanked the world’s plug and left us flickering in emergency lighting.

And I was there again—me—not just watching through a peephole, but actually driving. I could feel my heartbeat. My chest burned. My hand twitched against the floorboards.

I coughed. It felt like coughing up tar. “Max…”

Her voice reached me before anything else did—raw, panic-laced. “Are you okay?!”

“No,” I rasped. “When I see him, I’m killing him.”

Maggie

I fell to my knees in disbelief. It was really him .

The eerie green shimmer was gone from his eyes—those beautiful, storm-grey steel blues staring straight into mine. Familiar. Steady. Human.