Page 63 of Inked & Bloodbound

It’s been gathering dust in the back of my closet ever since.

I should also probably admit that the nerves I’m feeling aren’t just about the clothes or having a first date with a guy I actually like. No, I’m worried that my burgeoning supernatural power isn’t up to where it needs to be and I’ll let Cass down, or worse, get us in serious danger with some very bad people.

I settle into the couch and out of the corner of my eye, I catch the candles and salt on the coffee table and toy with the idea of doing a practice session in the void, just to dial into hearing multiple voices.

Cass said he’d look out for me, but a little extra preparation couldn’t hurt, right?

I light the candles, even though I know I can access that place much easier now, and say the incantation. This time I close my eyes and let the window open more. Allowing more chatter in. The babble from the chorus of the dead, all battling for my focus, clamoring and desperate for my attention.

My breath slows, and I let them flood me, one by one at first, then all at once as I practice picking through the snippets and chasing the threads.

It’s good practice for tonight, and I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of it. The more I search and fight, the harder it is to stay ontop of it. If I want this to work, I need to relax and let it happen, let the voices from the void find me. Stop trying to control everything and just ride the waves.

“Reba gets everything, even the car.”

“The cat’s medicine is on top of the fridge.”

“I hid the money in the?—”

“Liliput.”

The air is knocked from my lungs. That sounded like…

“Mom?”

“Liliput, my darling.”

The tears come instantly, hot and desperate. “Mom? Where are you?”

I’m reaching through the void now, clawing at the darkness, trying to follow her voice.

But she’s everywhere and nowhere, an echo bouncing off the walls of eternity. The space is too vast, too chaotic. I can’t pin her down.

“Please don’t leave me again!”I’m screaming now, tearing through the spirit realm like a madwoman. ‘There’s so much I want to ask you.”

Her voice comes back, fractured and fading. “Liliput. Listen.”

“I’m listening! I’m here!” But even as I say it, I can feel her slipping away, running through my fingers like vapor—impossible to catch.

“What is it, Mom? Tell me!”

My vision explodes with a torrent of images—violent, blurry, too fast to comprehend. Blood splattered in the cracks of peeling wallpaper. Darkness. Hands around her throat. Terror in her eyes. And through it all, her voice growing fainter and fainter.

“Do. Not. Trust. Him.”

“Who?” I scream into the void, my throat raw. “Mom, who can’t I trust? Come back!Come back!”

But she’s gone, and I’m alone in the dark, sobbing and shaking on my living room floor. The candles flicker in my peripheral vision as I gasp for air, my whole body shaking with the weight of what I just experienced.

Her warning rings in my head. Echoing round and round like an alarm. No beginning, and no end.

Do not trust him.

Do not trust him.

Do not trust him.

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