Invoke

Chapter 8

Scarlett sighed as she came closer to the Connor home. She glanced at the written directions once again, being sure not to miss the driveway. Mr. Connor made it clear that it was a hairpin turn, and then she'd be right smack on their road. There were so many back roads in this part of town that she felt a little out of sorts, and her GPS on her phone took her to no man's land, so she was content with old school directions. She did not intend to get lost tonight.

Finally, her headlights shined on the road sign, giving her a small sense of relief. This was it, Gray Hawk Road. She put her signal on and turned right. She was now on Connor property. Their driveway was impressive. The traditional South Carolina oak trees lined the drive, just like hers. The lane was shorter, however, and not as eerie.

Scarlett took in some fresh air from the window. She was anxious again, feeling the pull of her gift.

"Relax Scarlett," she said to herself. She was already unwillingly tapping into her clairvoyance. As a Medium, she could sense an aura of a home, or in simple terms, if it's clean or not. She could feel whether there were spirits lingering, if a place was a portal, or required a blessing or cleansing. However, she was completely off base with her own home.

Her brow furrowed. She thought that perhaps it had something to do with burying her gift and casting it away. To her, it was a curse, not a gift nor a blessing. Setting that aside, she was certain that's why she was blinded in regard to her house.

It had felt right the moment she saw it. There were no imprints of any spirits, nor did she feel anything amiss. In fact, it felt like home. A safe home. She must be slipping, she thought. For years she had denounced her gift and had been fine with balancing and forgetting. Now, she is faced with the same turbulence as she had when living with her grandparents — an abyss of communication with the dead.

She parked her truck behind a Mercedes Benz that looked entirely out of its element amongst all the other vehicles. She saw Mr. Connor's truck, so she was sure she was in the right place. His home was a rustic log cabin, notably large and definitely custom. Light spilled from the windows onto the front porch, and the melody of a country song drifted out into the night air.

Scarlett reached for the wine that she had picked up at the local convenience store on the way, and grabbed her purse.

She opened her truck door, her heels hitting the loose gravel. She made a mental note to walk with care so she wouldn't fall on her face. Kitten heel or no, she wished she had boots on.

"That would be bloody brilliant," she said aloud. Grace would say, "Head up, and walk like you own it."

Scarlett smiled, uttering to herself. "I definitely do not own this one, Grace. My feet are already killing me."

The steps to the front porch were filled with flowers, creating an image that any southerner would be proud of. She stood outside the door for a moment and closed her eyes. She breathed a small sigh, silently wishing she had declined. She hated being the new kid on the block. She could hear her gran right now, "move it girl."

She rang the doorbell. She could hear the voices from within pause for a moment and then continue. She bit the inside of her cheek, attempting to calm her nerves. Finally, the door opened and she was greeted by a woman with a medium complexion, and salt and pepper hair. Her eyes were a deep brown, gentleness in the depths of them.

"Oh my, you must be Scarlett." She smiled, grabbing Scarlett's hand, directing her in. "Welcome," she said delightfully.

She shut the door behind them and took the wine from Scarlett. She looked at the label and smiled.