I awoke in a dark room. I was laying across a large bed and I realized I couldn't really see much in the dim light. Outside a nearby window, the sky was a vivid pink as the last rays of sun sank from view...

Night already?

How long had I been out?

Once my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I glanced around the room. I didn't recognize anything about it. The only thing that stood out was that this definitely wasn't a hotel—it looked like someone's bedroom. The bed I was laying on was king-sized, so big that it touched three of the small room's four walls.

Whose room was this? I wondered. A friend of Polly's?

I shimmied over to the edge of the bed and stood up. My legs felt a little stiff, a little sore, but otherwise fine. The horrific pain Matilda had inflicted on me was a raw memory but it seemed I hadn't actually suffered any real damage. Maybe I could survive an exorcism after all, even if it wouldn't be a pleasant experience...

I felt a twinge somewhere deep inside and a chill crawled up my spine in response. Something—someone—was still in there, inside me. Could they hear my thoughts? Hear me plotting to get rid of them? They had said they were trying to help me, but...

Well, I wasn't sure I believed them.

Whether or not they took offense, the voice I had heard in Matilda's house kept silent.

Whatever, it wasn't them that I needed to talk to.

I needed Polly.

I headed for the door and took hold of the handle, but froze mid-twist. I assumed this place—wherever it was—was safe because Polly had taken me here, but I didn't know for sure. Had Polly brought me here? Or had Matilda hadn't caught up to us, like Polly feared she would?

I released the handle and pressed my ear to the door, listening to the sounds beyond. Somewhere in the distance, a TV or radio was playing music but I didn't hear anything else. So I turned the handle—relieved to find it unlocked—and opened the door a crack.

I peered out. Beyond the door was a dark, narrow hallway. There was another door set on the opposite wall and a warm glow from around the corner at the end. I slipped out and crept forwards, down the hall.

I soon found myself in a densely packed and colourful kitchen. The bottom cupboards had been painted a nice cool blue, contrasting with the black and white tile on top. The upper walls were full of shelving, filled with cookbooks and mis-matched plates and bowls. The fridge was a surprising burnt orange, a relic from an era past.

The kitchen opened into the small but equally colourful living room. A small loveseat, covered in afghans, sat opposite another relic of a TV and tucked into a corner was an old recliner—

I jolted as I realized someone was there, sitting in the recliner. Their form was crumpled with age and their long white hair cascaded over the back of the chair...

My breath caught in my throat.

Matilda!

The person turned as if I had called their name. My held breath came out in a rush of relief—no, it wasn't Matilda. It was a completely different old woman, though she and Matilda had the same long white hair. Only, instead of milky-white eyes peering through me, this woman's eyes were a clear piercing light grey that seemed... familiar.

"Hello dear," the woman said, giving me a small wave. "Who might you be?"

I just blinked at her, my mouth agape. I was in her house, yet she didn't know who I was? Where the hell was I? And who was this woman?

She didn't seem bothered by my hesitation. "Oh, you're Rachel, aren't you? How nice to finally meet you! I'm... I'm..." And as she said it, her grey eyes seemed to unfocus and darken. Then, with a flutter of her eyelids, they sharpened to clarity again. "Well, it's not quite coming to me at the moment. My grandson will know, though. He should be home soon. Very soon, in fact."

As she said it, I heard a door open and close in the distance of the house. A buzz of voices followed, moving quickly, closing in. Then a familiar face emerged from around the corner with a bag of groceries in each hand.

"Ethan?" I cried.

"Oh, hey! You're up!" he said, smiling as he caught sight of me. "Feeling okay?"

"I... I think so," I stuttered, as the fog in my mind struggled to clear. This was... Ethan and Tory's place? "Just a little confused, I guess. Where's P—"

I didn't have the chance to ask before Polly appeared just behind Ethan. She, too, was carrying several bags of shopping stuff, though hers didn't seem to be carrying food.

"Hey," she said with a small smile of her own as she hauled the bags over to the small round table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. "You look like you're doing better."

"I guess," I said. "How'd we end up here?"

Polly's smile faded and she tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't think you knew Tory or Ethan."

Polly and Ethan exchanged glances. "I... don't," she said.

"Then how did you know how to get here?"

"Uh, Rachel... you suggested it."

"I did?"

"Yeah, you did," Polly said, her icy eyes suddenly shrewd. "You gave me directions. Don't you remember?"

No...

"Yeah, I was really surprised when you two showed up," Ethan said, dumping his bounty on the table, too. "And I don't mean because Polly was carrying your lifeless body... though, honestly, that was pretty shocking. I didn't even know you even knew where Tory and I lived."

Something itched at the back of my mind. Truth was... I didn't know where Ethan lived. How could I give directions to somewhere I've never been?

They both watched me, waiting for an explanation. I had none to give. And the suspicion in my head continued to itch, itch, itch...

"Ethan, darling," the old woman called from her recliner. "Can you tell this nice lady who I am?"

Ethan tore his eyes away from my blank face. I breathed a sigh of relief for the distraction.

"Oh, right!" he said. He abandoned the groceries and went to give the woman a hug. "Rachel, this is my oma—my grandmother."

"She knows that, sweetie," she chirped, giving him a little tweak of his ear. "But what's my name? There's so many names in my head..."

"Anja, oma."

"Anja! Anja, yes, yes," the woman's face lit up. "That name sounds right. I tried to introduce myself to poor Rachel, but I couldn't find the right name. The others talk so loud, it's hard to hear myself think in here!" She tapped a finger against her temple, but her playful grin undercut her unsettling words.

"It's okay, I'm sure Rachel understands," Ethan said, turning back to me. "Sorry, we weren't sure when you'd wake up... I hope she didn't startle you."

"It's fine," I said, forcing a smile at the old woman—Anja. I had heard a little bit about Ethan's grandmother. I knew that she had been Tory's mentor before he had gone to study under Luc. I could see now why he had to find someone else.

But if she was a mentor that meant...

She was a psychic, too.

I wondered if she was a telepath, like Ethan... Or, since she had been a mentor to Tory, maybe she was a medium? Suddenly the mention of voices made sense, and her words became even more horrifying.

"A bit of both, actually," Anja said, like she had plucked the questions out of my head.

I felt the blood drain from my face. Great. Just what I needed—another person able to read me like an open book. I wished I could slam the cover shut.

"Don't worry, dear," Anja chuckled. "I mean you no harm."

"Quit digging around in Rachel's head, oma," Ethan chided as he headed back towards the kitchen. "She doesn't like it."

"Alright, alright," Anja said, still chuckling away like this was some sort of harmless prank. She settled back into her chair and her gaze slid over to a noisy game show that had just started on the TV.

Ethan nudged me along, as if to tell me to follow him. We returned to the table where Polly was still watching me through narrowed eyes.

"Sorry about that," Ethan said in a low voice as he began to empty the contents of the bags out onto the table. "Grandma isn't quite all there anymore."

"I noticed," I muttered back. "She seems sweet enough, though."

"She is," Ethan replied, with a sigh. "It's sad, but it was inevitable. This is what happens to most mediums."

My mouth dropped open. "What? But Tory..." My words trailed away. How could Tory be so determined to become a medium if this was his fate? I wondered if he knew, but considering he lived with her...

"Yeah, I know," Ethan replied with a sigh. "I mean, it's not set in stone, but it does get worse the more you use your power. It wears down the natural defenses that keep spirits out. For example, my oma was quite the illustrious medium in her day and... well, you can see for yourself. They come and go as they please, now."

I looked back at the woman sitting in the recliner. She was smiling, entranced by the bright lights of the game show, muttering cheerfully to no one... Or, at least, no one I could see. A shiver tingled down my spine.

She seemed happy enough, all things considered, but I wouldn't wish that fate on my worst enemy.

Suddenly Ethan's reluctance to engage with his power—and his mistrust of Tory's mentoring—made all the more sense. He had seen it all play out, close up. And yet Tory... I felt a hot flare of anger at him, and then at Luc—

Wincing, I cut the thought off. It was too painful to continue. Just thinking about him sent ripples of pain through me.

Polly, who was still watching me like a hawk, noticed. "Are you okay? Is something sore? Are you hurt?"

"No, no," I said, turning away so I didn't have to meet her eyes. "My body is fine."

"Nice deflection," Polly said, rolling her eyes. "For real, what's up? We're gonna have to talk about all this sooner than later."

I just closed my eyes. Polly was right, we did need to talk about this, but I was not looking forward to it... I wished I was still asleep.

"I updated Ethan as much as I could," Polly continued, barreling ahead like always, "but there's still lots I don't understand—"

"Why don't we wait until after dinner?" Ethan stepped in. "Once I put my oma to bed, we'll have the place to ourselves until Tory gets home."

I snuck a glance at Polly. Her full lips were pulled into a disapproving line, but she didn't object. "Alright," she said, with a sigh. "After dinner. If we're going to waste some time, then I'd like to have a shower. If that's okay, Ethan?"

"That's totally fine," Ethan said with a nod as he busied himself with the groceries. "You know where it is."

Without another word, Polly picked up one of the bags she brought in and disappeared down the hall.

Once I was sure she was out of earshot—I heard a door close—I turned back to Ethan. "Thanks," I said, keeping my voice low just in case.

He gave me a half-smile. Beneath his shaggy blonde bangs, his grey eyes were soft and understanding. "No problem. I figured you could use a moment to clear your head before we dove into it. I don't know what happened, but I can assume it wasn't good, was it?"

I sighed. "You have no idea."

🔮

Do you think Ethan and Tory will be able to help Rachel?
What do you think about Tory's eventual fate?