Page 53 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

“Those are our spirits, dear.” Ruby’s voice cut through the air. “We can see you, but you can only hear us. The circle is providing protection to us. Are you ready? Can you see the incantation?”

I glanced down. There it was—exactly where Katie had left it. Clear as day. Waiting.

“Yes.” I scooped it up and scanned the page—Latin, just like she said. “Okay… now what?”

“We’ll give him the potion,” Ruby said, firm. “Then we wait. Watch for the other spirit—if we’re lucky, it’s bound.” Without another word, she and Clover slipped back into their chant.

I repeated the English spell in my head, again and again, like it was the only thing tethering me to reality.

Cast out the wicked from time and space, bring Graham’s spirit to its rightful place. Again. Cast out the wicked from time and space?—

The air was thick, the incense—smoky and resinous—clung to my tongue like ash. A chill curled down my spine, and my heartbeat felt wrong—off tempo.

Time stuttered. Each second stretched out like a bungee cord, pulling at my nerves, until it was hard to tell if I’d spoken the spell once or a hundred times.

Before I could finish the spell, Graham’s spirit appeared before me.

He stood at arm’s length, staring at me, his arms tied behind his back and his eyes filled with a blackness that made the knots in my stomach pull tight.

A vengeful smirk spread across his face and he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Uncle Silas and the cats passed right through him and stood beside me.

The malevolent spirit separated from Graham.

I’d expected it to be some horrific demon of sorts, but it wasn’t—not even close.

It was a man, maybe in his late fifties or early sixties.

He had sunken eyes, a slimy grin screwed onto his face and limp, stringy hair that looked soaked in oil.

He didn’t glow like Graham and me, or even Uncle Silas.

He had a darkness about him. A darkness that seemed almost darker than the blackness surrounding us.

“Now. You must banish him!” Uncle Silas placed his hand on my shoulder. To my surprise, I felt warmth, life—not the icy touch of death he carried with him before.

“I’ve got secrets to spill, to twist and to turn—they’ll make your insides out, and gods, how you’ll squirm.”

His oily hair swung as he yanked against the glowing shackles, face stretched in a grin too wide, too wet.

“I know you—inside, outside, every filthy part. You’re a horny little slut with a traitor’s heart. Let me out, sugar, before I sew my lips shut—taking your precious officer with me, gut by gut.”

“Max, what the hell are you doing?” Graham’s voice cut through the air. I was gambling with his soul and he knew it.

“I know the truths of the deaths you chase. Unbind me, sweet child, and I’ll gift you every face.”

“What if he’s telling the truth?” I whispered, torn open by doubt, searching Graham’s eyes for something solid.

“And what if he’s not?” Graham snapped. “I’m not handing my body over to budget-rate Rumpelstiltskin again.

“Maggie,” Uncle Silas said, voice taut and urgent, “as much as it pains me—I agree with Graham. You mustn’t falter now, my dear. Do it. Now. ”

“Cast out the wicked from time and space,” I said, my hands trembling, gripping the edges of the grimoire. “Bring Graham’s spirit to its rightful place.”

As the final words left my lips, the air trembled. Graham’s spirit lifted first, his face slack and glowing. Then the evil thing rose too—dark, snarling, tethered to him like a shadow that refused to let go.

“Where the bleeding bonnets bloom and moss cloaks three—there you’ll find what’s left of me.”

I turned to Uncle Silas, eyes pleading—begging him to intervene, to do something.

He shook his head, solemn, lips tight. Around us, the Latin chant swelled—Derek, Katie, and the aunts, their voices a wall of sound pressing into my skull.

I picked up Nox Animae, its pages humming like they knew what came next. Everyone was waiting—for me.

But I couldn’t let it go. Not yet. What if he was the missing piece? The final key in a lock no one else could even see?

“What do you know about the murders?” I snapped. “Why me? Why am I the target? Who wants me dead?”

Graham’s eyes widened, sheer panic rising like a tide—he knew what it meant to be trapped with this thing, and he wasn’t inviting it back in.

The spirit let out a laugh that curdled the air—wet, gleeful, inhuman . With a single jolt, the glowing bands shattered. He lunged. In an instant, he was inches from my face, breath reeking of rot and rage.

“They’ll keep coming, girl, ’til there’s nothing left to exist. Heart stacked with the others… such a fun little twist.”

He drove his hand straight through my chest—and ripped the air from my lungs in one violent breath. My consciousness frayed like torn silk. His darkness crashed through, coiling around the core of me—smothering every flicker of light I had left.

It took everything— grit, rage, love— to claw back into control. I forced my lips apart, fighting the weight of his shadow, and screamed the first words of the spell.

“Impios… de tempore et spatio ejice… Grahami spiritum ad locum suum adducere…”

My voice trembled, but I forced the words out, syllable by syllable.

“Impios de tempore et spatio ejice… Grahami spiritum?—”

The others’ voices rose around me, locking into rhythm like we’d rehearsed it a thousand lifetimes. Even Chester and Tophie sat inside the salt ring, eyes narrowed—focused, bodies still—like they were casting too.

The spirit howled, rising higher into the air, its grip tearing away from the heart of my soul. That terrible laugh echoed through the attic like a threat—but he was wrong. He was the one losing.

I finished the incantation for the third time, and with a flash of burning light, he shattered. A scream split the air, then—nothing. Oblivion.

And Graham?—

Graham’s spirit slammed back into his body like a wave crashing against stone. His chest arched, sucking in air, and the circle flared once more before finally going still.

I glanced to Uncle Silas, just for a breath, a heartbeat?—

—before his arm wrapped around me in the warmest hug, I’d ever felt.

His touch was electric, like Pop Rocks crackling on my skin, buzzing with something more than love— pride. He held me like I was was both a child and a force of nature.

“I knew you could do it, my girl!” he whispered, his smile glowing with something deeper than words.

I opened my mouth to speak, to return the gesture?—

But something tugged. Hard.

A current pulled me backward—no room to resist, no time to ask why.

Uncle Silas loosened his embrace, eyes soft as I slipped away. Our fingers brushed one last time before I was ripped from that place, spiraling.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

.

.

.

Nausea slammed through me like being caught mid-fall on a carousel that wouldn’t stop spinning.

Candlelight pulsed behind my eyelids—bright, then gone, then back again.

My body felt like lead, my stomach like it wanted to escape. I blinked once. Twice.

Blurry shapes sharpened.

Katie. Derek. The aunts.

They stood around me, breathless, waiting.

But all I wanted was to keep my eyes shut—because if I opened them for real, I was going to baptize the attic in vomit.

“Oh—” I croaked. “I think I’m—Would someone please tell this fucking room to stop spinning?”

“Bucket’s to your left,” Derek whispered. His hand rubbed slow circles into my shoulder—anchoring, soft.

I groaned and pushed myself upright, clutching my head like it might fall off. My eyes stayed shut. “Did it work?”

“Seems I’m the only one left in this body now, princess .” Graham answered, and fuck— his voice. It was whiskey and thunderstorms but it melted any thread of worry from my mind.

My eyes flew open.

He was staring at me—those eyes a storm of sapphire and gunmetal.

It was him . Not Uncle Silas. Not that bastard spirit. Just Graham.

A shaky smile tugged at my lips. He gave me one right back softer than I’d ever seen.

“Good,” I breathed.

And then I let the dark pull me under again, because honestly? That exorcism could suck it, and I was sleeping for a week.