Spirit Caller 01 - Spirits Rising

through my hair. My pulse raced, the pent up adrenaline I’d put aside now free to assert itself. I stared at the blushing woman. “Mrs. Saunders, you practice magic?”
    She gave me a disgusted look. “I’m a Christian, young lady.”
    I looked back outside. Jeremy was speaking with Tobe, who rubbed his elbow but looked fine otherwise. “Magic. God. It’s all the same in the end,” I whispered.
    Dammit, Mom had been right. Faith was the key. If I could somehow bridge my senses with Mrs. Saunders’s . . . whatever she did, we’d create a force doubly strong. The ancestral spirits of Newfoundland would recognize two women of power. Having a very old woman, like Mrs. Saunders, might even lend some visual legitimacy to the banishing. Old people have their own kind of spiritual strength, built from decades of experience and living.
    I turned to Mrs. Saunders and said, “I think I’ll need your help. You up for it?”
    The old lady straightened her back just a tad, joints snapping. “I could use a little excitement. It’ll give that new priest of ours something to talk about at mass for a good month.”
    God, I love old people.
    CHAPTER 8: Pride and Prejudice

    Sleep didn’t come easy or quickly. I crashed in Mrs. Saunders’s spare bedroom; I didn’t want her to be alone. At least I had the comfort of knowing no one had been injured. I’d never forgive myself if one of my neighbours was hurt. I also couldn’t push down the welling gratitude over seeing Tobe and his sons coming out to my rescue. While they were outmatched against ancient spirits, they still stood out there, trying to scare them away from my house.
    People always say Newfies would do anything for a person and that they are nice people. There’s hearing it and there’s seeing people put themselves in danger to protect you. I would not take these people for granted ever again.
    I also made a note to snow-blow all of their driveways at least once this winter.
    Every rustle of leaves or creak in the old house startled me. I woke up as giddy as when I’d drifted off, the pressure of the lack of other an intoxicating drug of its own. Mexico had its own pulse of spirits, but the resort’s cold, commercialism had mostly pushed the ancient presence towards the temples and holy areas. Wisemen’s Cove and the entire Northern peninsula had that pulse, too, but the last day had pressed against me so heavily that breathing was difficult at times.
    And now, nothing.
    Each time I faded, I did not dream. I did not hear voices. No other spoke to me in my sleep. I did not relive any spirit’s memories.
    And it was glorious.
    I woke a few hours later to the piercing glare of midmorning sun and the smell of bacon and fresh-baking bread. I inhaled deeply.
    I crawled out of bed, still wearing my clothes from the night before, and made my way down the stairs. It wasn’t until I saw Jeremy’s rumpled self that I remembered he was even there. He stood in Mrs. Saunders’s kitchen in his black boxers and grey T-shirt, barefoot despite the early September chill.
    Focus, Rachel. There’s danger and trouble and spirits and people are going to hurt someone if you don’t get your shit together .
    I looked away and vowed that, after this, I was moving as far away as I could from Jeremy. Like, British Columbia. Or maybe South Africa.
    Get it together, Rachel .
    “Mrs. Saunders isn’t allowed to eat bacon,” I said by way of greeting.
    He grinned at me. “I already made her Cream of Wheat with cream on top, and a cup of tea. I used the skim evaporated milk, not the cereal milk, and I put in two packets of artificial sugar and one of regular sugar. Just the way she likes it.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t put gin in it, did you?”
    “It’s too early for gin. I never drink before three in the afternoon,” came Mrs. Saunders’s raspy voice from the living room.
    I cocked an eyebrow at Jeremy, who chuckled.
    “She has really good hearing for an old woman,” Jeremy whispered.
    I laughed a little too loudly, a little too forced. Change the topic. Change the topic. “I have an idea for putting these spirits back to rest.”
    He poked at the bacon with a fork. “Yeah?”
    I nodded. “I’m going to try a ritual at the United Cemetery in town. Manny’s house is just down the hill from it and graveyards have a strong pull for the dead. Even if Manny’s house was where they were summoned, I’m hoping that graveyard is close enough to call them to