Page 45 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

THE EXORCISM OF GRAHAM LOCKE

Maggie

The second we stepped into the manor, I could smell it—mugwort, rosemary, and something slightly metallic. Not blood, but something close. The kitchen lights were low, flickering like the air was watching us.

“Well, well, well,” Uncle Silas purred from Graham’s mouth as he sauntered in, boots echoing against the wood floors. “What have we here?”

The aunts had turned the kitchen into a makeshift apothecary. Dried herbs hung from twine, mortars and pestles clinked. Clover stood at the stove, stirring something thick and dark in a cast-iron pot. Ruby uncorked a vial and sniffed it like she was debating whether to add it—or drink it.

“Hello, Clovey… Ruby,” Uncle Silas drawled, circling the place.

“Didn’t expect to see you two back here.

Come over for another ménage à trois, perhaps?

Bet you’d like to try a go with Mr. Locke.

” A rakish grin smeared across his face as he curled Graham’s arm, flexing it so the fabric of his shirt pulled tight over his bulging bicep.

Katie choked so hard on air, her eyes went full dinner plate.

“What?!” she squeaked. “You two slept with Silas?”

Clover didn’t flinch. Ruby blinked slowly and set down the vial, like it had suddenly lost all priority.

Uncle Silas just grinned. “Oh, I see I’ve had my fingers in all the pies here.”

I rubbed my fingers into my temples. “Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop talking.”

He ignored me.

“What’s this?” He gestured to the setup on the butcher block, nose wrinkling like a child catching sight of vegetables. “A weakening spell? Really, Maggie? I thought we had a deal. You promised not to banish me.”

“We’re not banishing you,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “We just want you out of Graham.”

“What if I’m not ready to leave Mr. Locke yet?” Uncle Silas smoothed a palm down Graham’s chest, admiring himself in a spoon, like it was a mirror. “I haven’t even scratched the surface of what this body can do.”

“Silas,” Katie said, stepping forward, holding a vial in her trembling fingers, “we didn’t summon you so you could take over his life.”

“No, no…” he said, smile widening. “You summoned me so you could fuck me.”

Katie’s mouth dropped open.

Ruby spun on her heel. “Excuse me?”

Clover didn’t even blink. “Katie, dear. Please tell me this isn’t true.”

“It’s not! Oh, my God—it’s not !” Katie shouted, her face going tomato red. “I was high! I said maybe! ”

“Oh, come now,” Uncle Silas purred. “Why don’t the three of you just give in? One witchy little love fest for old time’s sake.”

Derek—already halfway into the foyer—pulled out a joint and placed it loosely between his lips. “Oh, my God.” He sat on the arm of the chair like a man who’d witnessed too many things he never signed up for. He flicked his lighter and sucked in a deep pull of smoke.

“Listen,” I snapped, stepping between the butcher block and Uncle Silas before this turned into some unholy orgy. “No one is fucking anyone right now.”

Uncle Silas folded Graham’s arms across his chest. “You’re so tense, dear. Has anyone told you stress is terrible for aging skin?”

I glared. “I am one second away from sealing you in a mason jar.”

Ruby gave a low whistle. “She’s got fire in her. Good girl.”

“I said,” I growled, my voice shaking now, “I want Graham. I want him back. Not you using his body as a suit. Not you play-acting through his face. I! Want! Graham! ”

Uncle Silas hesitated, then smiled like a wolf humoring a child.

“Well, I?—”

“ Now! ” I demanded through clenched teeth.

For the first time since we walked in, Uncle Silas looked a little less smug, like I’d just shattered his fragile ego. But I didn’t care. Not tonight. Not after watching the man I was starting to fall for be used as a puppet. I needed one goddamn minute of normalcy before I completely lost it.

He let out a dramatic sigh, the kind that you were expected to feel sorry about, and collapsed onto the kitchen step. His shoulder hit the wall with a dull thud . A breath passed. Then two.

And when his eyes opened—they weren’t glowing anymore.

They were the steel-blue I fell in love with the first time I saw them.

“Graham?” I stepped closer, my voice tight in my throat.

“I’m fine,” he said through his teeth, leaning his head against the wall like it was too heavy to hold up.

Ruby watched him the way a cat watches a mouse before deciding if it was worth the effort. Then she turned to me, an elegant brow lifting with slow amusement.

“And how do you know it is really him?” she asked, her eyes razor sharp.

I didn’t answer. I just looked at him. At the way his lashes fluttered slightly, like he was fighting sleep. The way his jaw ticked once when I didn’t speak right away.

“I just do.”

A soft chuckle escaped Ruby’s lips. “You’ve got the sight, don’t you?”

“What?” I blinked.

Clover gasped, her spoon clattering against the cast iron. “The Sight ?” she whispered, reverent. “We haven’t seen a case of the Sight since ‘62… when Ambrose took over Carnagey.”

“Precisely,” Ruby said, taking my hand in hers like I was a fragile relic to be studied. “Oh, why didn’t I see it before?” Her fingers were soft, her grip gentle but filled with intention. “This child is bound to the spirit realm. That’s how she knew. That’s how she sees.”

My heart thudded.

“I—I don’t see anything,” I whispered. “Not really.”

“No, but you feel them.” Clover had come to my other side now, her expression glowing with something close to awe. “It’s rare. Rarer than mediumship. Sighted ones aren’t born—they’re chosen.”

Ruby nodded. “And that kind of gift? It’s not without cost.”

My gaze drifted back to Graham, his breathing still shallow, his pulse thudded visibly beneath the skin of his throat. His body didn’t look like it could hold another minute of Uncle Silas.

“That’s why you can tell when Silas takes control,” Clover said. “A part of you already lives in the spirit realm. That’s why your spells work so well.”

“What are you talking about?” I scoffed. “The only spell that’s ever worked was some half-assed seduction charm I used in high school and I?—”

Ruby took my hands, her grip warm and thoughtful. “You have great power, Maggie. That’s why you haven’t been able to break the binding spell. Those souls… they’re still tethered to you.”

My stomach dropped.

“Katie,” I snapped. “Did you tell them about the spell?”

“They would’ve figured it out,” she said, totally unbothered as she poured the vial’s contents into the bubbling pot on the stove.

I muttered a curse under my breath and grabbed the joint from Derek.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Graham said, cracking one bloodshot eye open to watch me.

“I don’t.” I took a long drag, the taste was earthy and strange—berries mixed with… diesel? I handed it back, coughing like the first-timer I was.

Ruby crouched in front of me, her eyes sharp and steady, filled with that eerie glint of knowing too much.

“Maggie, my dear,” she said, “within you lies a power so ancient, it hums through your bones. You are tethered to the veil. A bridge between the living and the dead. Most witches only dream of what is flowing through your blood.”

I stared at her. It was all I could do.

Wordless, I reached back to Derek. He handed over the joint with a look of, I’d smoke the whole thing too if I were in your shoes.

I sucked in another drag, longer this time, and held it. The pot needed to start working—fast—or there was a good goddamn chance I’d snap.

“Your aunts are nuts,” I exhaled, smoke trailing from my mouth. I passed the joint back to Derek and stood, offering a hand to Ruby.

She accepted it and rose gracefully. Nothing could rattle her. Like she knew how this all ended, and it didn’t scare her.

Katie grinned and turned off the burner. “Probably,” she said, brushing past me to join Derek in the foyer. “But they’re never wrong.”

For one brief second, the kitchen was quiet—only the bubbling potion breaking the silence.

“What else do we need to get this wrapped up?” I asked, my shoulders dropping before I’d even realized I’d been tensing them. My fingers felt warm. My arms buzzing like static had settled in my bones.

“Time and a few more herbs…” Clover sifted through the empty jars in the cardboard box labeled Witchy Shit . “…but we’ll have to forage for more ingredients.” She held up an empty jar, inspecting the minuscule leftovers. “Your apothecary is insufficiently stocked.”

“Okay—you do that.” I said, looking up at the kitchen light that now seemed to buzz like it had its own pulse. “Baskets and a flashlight should be in the stack by the pantry.”

“Thank you dear,” Clover grabbed what she needed, and Ruby joined her outside.

“Graham, were you able to catch anything Portia said during the interrogation? I asked.

“A little. She said something about a man named Jonathan Belvedere and how he was searching for magical bloodlines. But he died last year. She did say something that plucked a nerve though.” Graham slouched forward, resting his wrists on his knees.

“She said he liked to carve the hearts out of those he studied in a precise ritualistic manner.”

“Coincidence?” I asked.

“No clue. We are right next door to the witchcraft capital. There're all kinds of nutjobs running around these parts.”

“Hey!” Katie piped up. “I resent that.”

Graham shrugged. “Nothing personal. Just facts.”

Graham

By the time the aunts made it back, Derek and Katie had passed out in the foyer—curled up on the loveseat like two overgrown stoners in a dorm lounge.

Meanwhile, Maggie and I spent the peak of her high parked on the front porch, watching clouds screw around with the moon and talking about nature like biology was our favorite class in school.