Page 24 of Savored Sins
“Interesting,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “But… if you can’t talk to the ghosts, how do you plan on ‘making contact’ here, as you put it?”
Zeke waves a hand. “Oh, there are plenty of ways around it. It’s just annoying is all. Like, Phoebe’s super good with tarot cards, so she likes to communicate with them through that. I brought a spirit board—yes, a ouija board, don’t get your pretty panties in a bunch, it’s fine as long as you’re with me—a spirit box, and a pendulum. We can use whatever.”
“Well, okay,” I say, gesturing around the living room. “Do your thing.”
Zeke shoots me a suggestive smile. “I’ll remember you said that.”
Zeke sets up his tripod and ring light in the corner of the living room, fixing his camera to the top and angling it so that it gets most of the room. He shoves what he calls a spirit box into his pocket, and affixes a light to his phone camera. I was always under the impression that ghost hunters needed a lot of equipment, but when I ask about it, Zeke scoffs.
“That’s for people who can’t see ghosts,” he says. “And I like to keep things simple. But of course, if I get the deal with SyFy, you better believe I’ll say yes to whatever fancy ass equipment they want to shove my way.”
He waves me toward the front door.
“I’m gonna start outside on the front step with the selfie cam, explaining where I’m at, what I’m here for, all that jazz. Whenyou open the door, I’ll flip the camera to you and you can say hi, and then we’ll do a little walkthrough and head to the living room. I’ll keep the tripod camera running the whole time so we can capture any activity in the room, but you and I will mainly talk to the phone cam. Got it?”
As per Zeke’s instructions, I wait inside while he goes out to the front step. From my spot just inside the door, I can see him through the glazed windows, grinning like a fool and talking to himself. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he’s clearly invested in this, and I kind of love it. When he rings the doorbell, I play along, inviting him inside, giving the camera a toss of my hair. If I have to be in this, too, I may as well look good.
“So, over there is the kitchen,” I say, pointing to the opposite side of the foyer. “And over here’s the living room.” I stride in front of Zeke, leading him down the hall and turning back to the camera to give my commentary. “We’ve also heard—webeing my ex-husband and I—some activity coming from upstairs, which makes sense because I know my ex’s family had servants at one time who lived up there. Like, a century ago or something.”
“Oh, yeah? Tell me more about that,” Zeke says.
I shrug. “I don’t know many details. I just know they’ve always been wealthy, and at one point they had a dedicated house staff. I think maybe a cook and a maid? Maybe a groundskeeper, too.”
“About when would you say this was?”
“Oh, I don’t know… Late 1800s? Early 1900s?”
I’m impressed by Zeke’s investigative thoroughness. I kind of just assumed he’d come rolling in here with his phone, throw a ouija board on the floor, and start raving about some ghost girl’s tits. But no, he’s taking this seriously. I’ve got to give him credit.
“You know any names?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think my former in-laws were very concerned with the history of non-family members.”
“Checks out,” Zeke says, shooting me a half smile.
He props his phone up on the sofa, waves at me to bring a pair of candlesticks from the mantel, and spreads out what I assume must be the spirit board onto the coffee table. I talked Lydia into using one in college—she ran screaming from the room when the boys next door started pounding on the wall, if I remember correctly—but that’s the only time I’ve ever used one. I’m intrigued, but also a tiny bit scared.
“It’s okay,” Zeke says, as though reading my mind. “I mean, don’t use it without me, but it’s just a tool. I’d have been able to feel it by now if whatever’s here was some kind of demon.”
“Wow, how comforting,” I say drily.
Zeke shrugs. He lights the candles, then crosses the room to flick off the lights. The sky outside is almost black, with only the tiniest sliver of moonlight falling across the floor. Zeke takes a seat on the floor next to the coffee table, and I follow his lead, sitting across from him. The glow of his face in the candlelight is eerie, but his chiseled features are no less attractive.
“My brother would say we have to do an opening meditation,” Zeke says, his voice a little quieter, a little more reverent now that we’re in the dark. “But I don’t mess around with that shit. Autumn, get your hands up here.”
Zeke’s fingers are already on the planchette. Gingerly, I place my own across from his, aware of every single point they’re touching at. I force myself to focus. Keep my mind on the task at hand. Not only are we contacting aghost, we’re doing it on camera. This is not the time to be daydreaming about Zeke’s long, probably capable fingers. God.
Also, he’s twenty-three. That’s still a thing.
“Yo,” Zeke calls out into the darkness. I stifle a laugh, trying hard to remain still. “There’s somebody here. I can feel you. You wanna come out and say what’s up?”
We sit in silence. The house is still. Somewhere outside I hear the faint hoot of an owl, but here in the room, there’s nothing. Just us breathing. Zeke’s eyes move. He turns to look at something between us, and a grin spreads across his face.
“Theeeeeere you are,” he drawls, seemingly to no one. “I knew you’d come around. And—oh, wow. I was right. Youarea looker.” He turns to me, like it’s an aside to some audience. “I can always tell. The vibes are either hot or not.”
I sniff. “So you’d already clocked this one as a bombshell, huh?”
“Babe, I clockedtwobombshells the second I came through that door.”
