John arrived outside Magick and Mystique five minutes early. Opal was standing at the register, her back to him, and Grant was nowhere to be found. He'd just linger outside until the detective could provide a much-needed buffer. Seemingly on cue, Opal whirled around on the other side of the window, ran to the door, and opened it.

"There you are! Come on in." She motioned him inside and reengaged the lock, which immediately filled John with unease.

What had Opal so worked up that she'd lock the door before closing and before Grant arrived? Was it related to the people last night? To Onyx?

A lump formed in his throat as he considered the possibility of Onyx being here in the same building. He shuddered at the thought of the revenge she'd exact upon him if given the opportunity. Opal may have put aside her anger, but he was 100% positive Onyx would not. No, she'd rip him limb from limb and sew him back together so she could do it again.

Opal's eyes narrowed. "Where's the detective?"

"It's still a few minutes early. My guess is he's stuck in traffic. 275's a parking lot both ways."

As Opal returned to the register, John noticed that she wasn't in her normal frumpy garb. Tonight, she was wearing a skirt that showed miles of legs and her V-neck sweater was cut low enough to reveal the top of her black bra underneath. She'd also gone to the trouble of applying makeup.

"Date tonight?"

Opal scoffed. "Hardly. But maybe the detective will notice."

John didn't know any warm-blooded man who wouldn't notice, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know just how great she did look. "I think he's got a girlfriend."

She shrugged. "Can't hurt to try." Her cell phone chimed. After a quick read of the text, she returned the phone to the counter. She tried unsuccessfully to erase the worry from her face.

"Is everything okay?" John asked.

"Yeah. I've got my sisters working on it. If they can't come up with something, I can always learn Voodoo."

John had a feeling Onyx and Ruby would only cause more trouble for Opal. It always seemed to work out that way. "Is there any way I can help you?"

"Yeah, I'd rather not. Because, really, I am just one Voodoo lesson away from obliterating you."

John winced, then took a step closer to her. "I'm sorry, Opal. I truly am."

Opal shook her head. "I'm not ready to forgive you. I certainly won't--"

A knock at the door interrupted her. Grant stood on the other side of the glass, his hair glistening with rain. John willed her to leave him outside in the rain for a few minutes while they hashed things out, the message was not received, not that Opal was remotely telepathic. She rushed to the door and flung it open, ushering Grant inside and giving him a warm smile. She locked the door, and once the plug on the electric yule log had been pulled and the sign on the door flipped to closed, she said, "Nice to see you again. I take it you were able to find everything?"

Grant nodded. "I hope so. If my boss knew how many laws I broke in the past twenty-four hours, they'd have a warrant out for my arrest." He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a wad of plastic bags. "I hope I never have to do this sort of thing again."

The two men followed Opal to the room next to her office. The aromatic scent of cedar mixed with a lemony pine wafted into John's nose. He fought the urge to gag.

"What did you use in here?" John asked once he'd adjusted to the smell.

"Sorry about that. I burned cedar this morning and palo santo this afternoon."

John gave a confused look. "I didn't think you were supposed to burn cedar before a séance."

"Everyone has their own thoughts on the matter. I felt it more important to banish the room of negative energy, so I burned some cedar and I smudged with sage before that. I also thought palo santo would be good for protection since seances aren't an exact science. I probably went a little overboard." A gulp punctuated her sentence.

Grant walked over to the table. On it sat an empty crystal bowl, a megaphone, and a Ouija board. In the center of the table was an unlit candle.

John looked at the bookcase near the table. It was stocked with several books about seances and made for a makeshift apothecary with its containers holding various liquids (two of which he knew to be holy water and holy oil), herbs, and salts. He let out a sigh of relief. Opal wasn't taking any chances tonight. Not that he was, either. He'd brought the Devilsfoil and was prepared to use it should the need arise.

Opal picked up a purple bottle, uncorked it, dabbed some of the liquid onto her finger, and made the sign of the cross on her forehead. When finished, she passed it to John who did the same. John handed it to Grant.

With a frown, Grant shook his head, saying, "Sorry, I'm not Catholic."

Opal laughed. "Just do it. This is to protect you."

Grant took the bottle and made the sign of the cross backwards on his forehead. "Seems like you're doing a lot of protecting today."

She returned the closed bottle to the bookcase and opened another, carefully marking a circle around the table. "You can never be too safe, especially when dealing with spirits. Why don't you both take a place around the table? We should be equally spaced." She took her spot closest to the bowl and the bookcase.

Once John was on her right and Grant on her left, she inhaled deeply, seeming to calm herself. She grabbed their hands. When the two men balked at holding each other's hand, she scowled. "This is no time for homophobia. You either hold hands so we can form a circle, or this will not work. I will not negotiate on this."

Both of them cooperated. As Grant's hand slid into his, John couldn't help but notice both hands he held felt clammy. Though Grant typically hid his emotions well, John had no doubt the detective was nervous. Was he hiding something? Nah. This had to be his first séance, and he probably had a lot on the line regarding this case. How many lives were at stake if this séance resulted in a dead end? John shuddered at the thought of the Florida Flayer getting away with another murder.

After saying the séance's intentions, Opal released their hands and they followed suit. "Okay, I'll have you place the spirit's earthly belongings into the bowl."

Grant opened the first bag and poured several eight-inch strands of green hair into the bowl. Clearly, he'd tampered with a dead body. Next, he gingerly took a large gold, onyx ring from the bag. On the stone was a gold, capital B and on the side visible to him was a blue and white family crest marked with a lion. The family crest looked familiar, but John couldn't place it.

Opal frowned at the ring. "Are you sure that belongs to the victim? It looks too expensive, too gaudy. I mean, seriously, if she's got a ring like that, someone has to be looking for her."

"I can't be 100% sure it's hers, but it was found in the interior pocket of her coat and it had DNA on it that matched her own, so it must've been important to her."

His face seemed to lose color as he dropped another ring into the bowl. The ring had a thin, white gold band and an amethyst stone shaped like a heart. It was something a teenager might give his high school girlfriend, and undoubtedly something the girl could've owned. Grant had been busy expanding his criminal repertoire in the past twenty-four hours, and it troubled John. How many cops knew about his unorthodox behavior? Was this typical for Grant? More importantly, what did this mean for regular people he was investigating? John didn't feel comfortable with the lengths the detective would go to find his answers, but he squelched the desire to phone the police chief or the mayor, given the dynamics of the case.

Opal interrupted John's reverie. "Is that everything?"

Grant nodded. "I thought about bringing the coat, but there was no way I could smuggle it outside the evidence room. Now, these rings will be safe, right? I have to return ih—them first thing in the morning."

Opal looked over at John. "With John here, I doubt that even one of the hairs will be touched. Usually, the spirits figure out quickly that my best method of communicating with them is by use of the Ouija board. I can bring them here and feel their presence, but I can't see them and usually can't hear them. But John negates my limitations with his ability to communicate with them. The rings and the hair should be fine. Are you ready to begin?"

"I want to catch this guy." Grant took a deep breath. "It's now or never."

Opal reached for a match and lit the candle in the center of the table, then walked over to the light switch and slowly dimmed the room, to where the flame provided the only light in the room. She returned to her spot at the table and reached for the men's hands, her and Grant's palms still sweaty to John's touch.

"Spirit from beyond, come to us here,

Show us who you are and have no fear.

Spirit from beyond, please tell your tale.

Show us what you need, to speak through the veil.

Spirit from beyond, honor our call.

Show us what we seek, before we fall."

Opal repeated the chant two times before John and Grant joined in the summoning. Several attempts later, there was still no contact, and with each additional chant, Opal grew more impatient.

After a few more minutes, John whispered, "I think it's all the preparations you took beforehand. You burned a concoction that could've kept Billy Mays' mouth closed for days."

Opal looked away in frustration. "You're probably right. Can you help me move the table to the store? It's not ideal, but we might have better luck there." She flicked on the light.

While John and Grant messed with the table, Opal carried its contents to the front of the store and pulled the shades on the windows.

Finally, the table was set, distractions were eliminated, and the summoning could begin anew. They each took their spot and Opal reached for their hands.

"This time, as we chant, I want you to concentrate on the image from the photo so it will help pull her here. Let's try this again."

The candle flickered at the end of the third chant and cold air whooshed around the room. The men paused, and Opal screamed, "Don't stop. She's near. I can feel her. Keep chanting until the spirit materializes."

They resumed their chant, this time the crackle of energy fueling their words. A thin gossamer appeared in the even colder air. It whirled around the table and settled near the amethyst ring. As the chant continued, the gossamer elongated and expanded, its light nearly blinding John's eyes. He resisted the urge to break contact with Opal by forcing his eyes closed.

"Okay, Mr. De la Renta, can I open my eyes now?" a female voice sang. "I'm dying to see this dress. I'll bet it's every one of my dreams come true."

John's eyes flew open as he connected the words to the annoying, singsong voice. After confirming his suspicion, he gave Grant an incredulous look and broke contact with the circle as he folded his arms to his chest.

Grant cocked his head and threw his hands into a "What did I do this time?" response, while Opal stood there, seemingly assessing the situation. "What's wrong?" they asked simultaneously.

A shriek filled the room, pulling John's attention from the unscrupulous detective, to the center of the table.

"This is NOT what I had in mind, Oscar! Everyone says you're the best of the best! Why on earth would you stoop to putting me in shoulder pads and legwarmers? Is this your idea of a joke?"

John let out a laugh, and the ghost looked up from her clothing and made eye contact with him. Slowly, she looked around the table, her attention passing quickly over Opal and lingering for a second on Grant.

"What's going on? Are you....are you dead?" She positioned herself to see John, too. "None of you should be here yet." She whipped around to face Opal. "And I'm not sure you should even be here at all, neighbor."

"You're not supposed to be here, either." John took a deep breath before answering, "We aren't dead, but it does look like Grant used us to summon you, Cheline."

Author's Note: She's back! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed these three chapters that segue into the sequel. Happy New Year. <3