Vincent’s head whipped in the direction of the child’s voice. She was still calling for her mother.

  Eric jumped and pointed the camera in the same direction. “What—Was that the spirit?”

  “Amy, have you ever had a daughter?” Vincent asked, focusing on the crying.

  “I’ve never had any kids.” Tears welled in Amy’s eyes and her hands shook at her sides. “It’s a little girl, right? The crying and the nightmares… I always hear a little girl.”

  Meanwhile, Eric was beside himself, practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s investigate the sound. Maybe she’s still there.”

  Vincent followed Eric, even as the voice faded. In the kitchen, a plastic draining board lay upside down on the cold tile floor surrounded by the shattered glasses it previously held. Vincent grabbed the back of Eric’s shirt before his shoeless feet stepped into the shards.

  “She doesn’t mean to lash out like this. She’s upset and scared. It’s probably been a while since she died and you’re a stranger,” Vincent explained, frowning down at the mess. Eric quietly focused the camera too close to his face again. “The longer spirits dwell on this side, the stronger their emotions become. These emotions are power that can influence material things. Eventually, the little girl will disappear and all that would be left is her loneliness.”

  Amy covered her mouth with one hand, tears openly flowing now, and nodded along. Vincent never understood the fear of the dead. Spirits rarely wronged him.

  “I feel it…” Amy whispered. “I feel how lonely she is, but I thought it would be something like… she wanted to kill me so she’d have company.” She glanced at Vincent, who hadn’t fully mastered keeping his disdain to himself, and added, “That does sound stupid saying it out loud. This isn’t some horror movie.”

  High pitched beeping cut the tension in the room as Eric pulled out that device again. “These EMF readings are going crazy. If she’s not down here, this should be able to find her.” He waved the device over the shattered glass, careful not to get any closer. “Or we can just ask Vincent.”

  Eric spun and focused the camera on Vincent, a wide grin across his face. Vincent looked away and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I… actually don’t know where she is. She’s been here long enough that it feels like she’s everywhere. She could even just be tethered to the house itself or too far gone to materialize.”

  “Oh, so we need all my useless equipment now?” Eric teased.

  “I’ll find her, and I don’t make any annoying beeping noises.”

  Amy, armored with slippers on her feet, started sweeping up the glass. “It—she won’t hurt me, right? Am I safe down here?”

  Vincent stared at the light glinting off the sharp shards on the floor. “Spirits can’t touch you…. Usually.”

  “That isn’t very reassuring,” Amy snapped.

  Eric kept the camera focused on Vincent until it was shoved aside. With a pout, he filmed the kitchen and dining room while the psychic elaborated.

  “Spirits can move things and things can hurt you if you’re in their path. You’d need some strong connection to the spirit for it to touch you.”

  Amy frowned, not at all reassured. “You can go wherever, but if I see anything missing, I’m calling the cops on you.”

  Vincent led the way, determined to find the spirit on his own over relying on Eric’s tools. He walked confidently through the house, giving the airs of someone who knew where he was going.

  While wandering and hoping for the girl to show up, he started thinking of where a little girl might hide. Closets, bathrooms, behind furniture….

  Eric interrupted his thoughts. “Can you talk us through your process? How are you calling out to the spirit?”

  “I don’t know her name, so how can I call her? Let’s try upstairs. Maybe she’s in a bedroom.” Vincent paused at the top of the stairs, dizzy from the focus required to keep the tiny connection he had with the girl. “The presence is stronger up here.”

  “Do you see her?” Eric asked. He placed his hand on Vincent’s back as he came up next to him.

  “No, it still feels like she’s everywhere.”

  The landing at the top of the stairs could barely be called a hallway. It was smaller than the kitchen with space enough for the four doors along the walls and a path to walk between them. The two bedrooms were side by side in front of them, with a linen closet and bathroom opposite each other on the sides. All of the doors were open, sunlight from the windows lighting up the dark hall.

  They took only a few steps toward the smaller bedroom. Vincent felt another wave of energy and put his hand on Eric’s chest to stop him. The door nearly knocked the camera from Eric’s hand as it slammed shut. The other doors in the landing soon followed suit, plunging them into darkness.

  “She doesn’t want us here…” Eric whispered, spinning around to focus his camera on each door. He had to switch on the flashlight attachment to get any footage. “Maybe I should switch to night vision….”

  “She doesn’t know us.” Vincent knocked on the bedroom door. “Are you in there? I just want to talk.”

  A muffled voice echoed around him. No, I want Mommy.

  Vincent sighed and tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, but it felt like an elephant was sitting on the other side.

  Amy called from the bottom of the stairs, “Are you alright? What happened?”

  “She slammed the doors on us. She’s still looking for her mother,” Vincent replied.

  All the doors except the linen closet refused to open. The closet was large enough to step into, with a naked bulb in the ceiling being the only light. Eric grumbled complaints, having switched to a night vision lens when Vincent turned on the light. They checked behind storage boxes, sheets, and towels to no avail.

  “We tried to go into this bedroom just to see if she was there,” Eric explained to Amy as she crept up the stairs.

  “I use that as an office and exercise room…” she answered. Her hand trembled as she tapped the doorknob, like she thought it would burn her. She pushed the door open with no resistance.

  Vincent tried the door to the bathroom. He still couldn’t open it.

  “Amy, call the little girl. Tell her you’re not ignoring her.” Vincent took a breath and prepared for the surge of energy he anticipated.

  “Little girl?” Amy’s voice shook and cracked as she called out. “I’m not ignoring you. Where are you?”

  The surge of energy never came. Vincent only felt a lull in the crippling loneliness that had surrounded him since he stepped onto the property.

  At first, Vincent only saw a faint shadow behind Amy. The shadow slowly gained shape and color, turning into a girl no older than ten, with red bows in her blonde pigtails and a red and white polo shirt tucked into a knee-length velvet skirt.

  “Mommy?” The little girl’s tiny voice sounded broken after years of having her calls go unanswered.

  A small fist balled itself in Amy’s shirt, only to phase right though, big teary eyes looking up at the woman she mistook for her mother. While spirits couldn’t truly touch the living, the living could certainly feel the icy chill as the energy passed through them.

  Amy let out a shriek and jumped back. She lost one slipper and stumbled over the other, landing hard on her side inches away from her small rack of weights.

  “She’s a little girl, not a damn grizzly bear!” Vincent snapped. He knelt and held out a hand to the girl. “You snuck up on her is all. No one’s ignoring you.”

  The spirit’s lip quivered as she looked between Amy and Vincent. “Mommy always ignores me. Why? Was I bad?”

  Without even fully connecting with the girl, her sorrow squeezed Vincent’s heart in his chest. She was lost and alone and for years, no one could help her.

  “No, you weren’t bad. You did nothing wrong.” Vincent’s voice caught in his throat. It didn’t take long for the girl’s loneliness to become his own.

  The years he spent lost and confused, talking to people no one else could see, sitting alone in hospitals getting test after test done on him, the ridicule he earned by telling people the truth and the isolation that came from hiding it.

  An arm snaked around his shoulders. Eric knelt next to him, a warmth Vincent hadn’t felt in a long while.

  “Yeah, no one’s mad at you,” Eric said to the general area around the girl. “Right, Amy? You’re not mad?”

  “No… no, I’m not mad. Does she think I’m her mom?” Amy crept forward, stopping in the doorway.

  “Just play along,” Vincent instructed, now more composed. “Once she’s satisfied, she’ll go.”

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “I want to stay here with Mommy! I’m not going anywhere!” The girl stomped her foot and vanished.

  Vincent felt her presence reappear above them. “Is there an attic?”

  “Yeah, I’ve never gone up there, though. The entrance is in that closet you were just in.” Amy followed close behind into the closet. “All this time, she really thought I was her mom?”

  “I’m willing to bet she thought any woman that lived here was her mom. Kids don’t always know they’ve died. They don’t understand the concept.” Vincent yanked the cord to the attic door. A shower of dust stung his eyes and throat, leaving him coughing in the corner while Amy and Eric pulled the ladder down the rest of the way.

  Vincent flipped on his phone flashlight while Eric switched back to the light attachment for his camera. Amy hugged her arms around herself, pressing back against the shelves.

  “Remember, this is just a little girl. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Vincent told her in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

  “What if she flings something at us or grabs me?”

  “A living child can do that too. Are you afraid of all children?”

  Amy pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “Good. You just need to pretend to be her mother for a few minutes.”

  Vincent climbed the ladder into the attic first. The roof was too low for him to stand up straight and only some of the rafters had boards between them, though they didn’t look at all sturdy.

  Old, musty boxes were scattered about along with broken lamps, dust-covered toys, and a mannequin in the corner, tattered fabric hanging limp from its limbs. A single red bow stuck out from one of the boxes, the spirit’s soft, ephemeral glow giving away her hiding spot.

  “You don’t need to hide from us,” Vincent said, crawling across the rafters towards the box. “I’m not going to make you go anywhere you don’t want to go.”

  The little girl peeked over the box before ducking back down again. “I want Mommy. I don’t like you.”

  Vincent stopped and called to the attic stairs with a sigh. “Amy, can you go over to that box? The one with the red bow—you can see the red bow, right?”

  “Okay, yeah, I see the bow. What’s her name?” Amy crept along the rafters, the focus it took to balance covering her fear.

  Vincent shrugged. “Little girl. What’s your name?”

  “I’m not little! I’m nine and a half.”

  “Okay. Nine-and-a-half-year-old girl. What’s your name?”

  In a tiny voice, the girl replied, “…Jill.”

  “Jill. That’s a nice name.”

  Amy nodded and continued toward the girl. “Jill, I’m sorry I made you sad. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

  Jill came out from behind the box and rubbed the tears away from her eyes. “It’s okay. Will you play with me now?”

  “She wants to play,” Vincent whispered.

  “Okay, I can do that. Play with a ghost…” Amy whispered, psyching herself up.

  With Jill shuffling closer to Amy, Vincent peeked into the box she was hiding behind. A doll, covered in cobwebs, looked back at him. It had red ribbons in its blonde hair, matching its owner, and multiple patches and stitches in its pink frilly dress. Its hands and face were meticulously crafted from smooth vinyl to look as realistic as possible. It was well-loved, Jill’s affection pulsing through it.

  “What do you want to play? Is that your doll there?” Amy asked. Her question brought Jill’s attention to Vincent brushing the webs from her doll.

  “Don’t touch her!” the girl cried.

  A surge of energy passed through the doll and into Vincent. His vision went white from the pain in his head and he only barely caught himself on one of the boards between rafters as the energy forcefully separated him from the doll. The board gave way and he landed hard on his back on the edge of a rafter. He heard his name echoing, oddly distant.

  The doll was Jill’s tether. It held the painful memories of being ignored by all the previous homeowners, including her real parents. Before that, Vincent caught a glimpse of a hospital room and felt the painful pricks of IVs.

  Hands clasped Vincent’s arm and brushed the hair from his face. As his eyes came into focus, he saw Eric fretting by the ladder. Amy knelt over him, pale and terror stricken. How was he going to convince her spirits weren’t dangerous now?

  “I’m fine. That—the doll’s energy was just too strong. I’m more sensitive to things like that. It wouldn’t affect you,” he explained, reassuring Amy and worsening Eric’s fretting. “Jill’s… possessing it, I guess. It’s what’s helping here stay on this side.”

  The spirit hid behind the box again, clutching the doll to her chest. To the others, the doll was simply floating.

  “S-Searchers, are you seeing this? Vincent, are you okay?” Eric stammered by the stairs. The camera in his hands remained still despite the incoherent babble its owner spouted. “The spirit... the doll… the spirit! Lifting the doll! It-it attacked Vincent!”

  “No, she didn’t! Don’t say shit like that,” Vincent scolded. The world was still spinning around him.

  “Do we destroy it then…?” Amy asked, voice shaking. Her breaths came in short bursts as the doll levitated in front of her.

  “No, shut up. Don’t make her more upset,” Vincent hissed. “We just need to get her to understand she’s dead.”

  “Mommy? I’m sorry…. I thought he was going to try and throw Cici away.” Jill took a few tentative steps forward. “Are you Mommy’s friend?”

  “Yeah, I’m her friend. And so is he over there. No one’s going to throw Cici away. Can you come over here and hold your mom’s hand?”

  Amy’s eyes went wide. Vincent met her panicked gaze with a glare until she held her hand out for the girl.

  “Eric, you get over here, too. I’ll make it so you both can hear her.”

  “I’m too heavy…. I can’t,” Eric whispered, his cheeks flushing red in the light of his camera. He tugged his shirt out to hide his belly and drew his shoulders in, as if trying to shrink into himself.

  “If these rafters can hold the roof, they can hold you.” Vincent reached out and beckoned him over. His shoulder was sore by the time Eric crept, inch by inch, close enough to take his hand.

  Meanwhile, Jill placed her hand in Amy’s, the woman visibly trembling at the touch. Once Vincent had Eric’s hand, he placed his other hand over Jill’s. Amy had cowered close enough to him that he didn’t need any further contact with her.

  “Are you two ready? She might get upset by the line of questioning, but I’ll take the brunt of whatever energy she puts out,” Vincent explained.

  “Is there a way we can share it?” Eric asked, his grip squeezing tighter.

  “What? Why?” Vincent shook his head and turned his attention to the girl. “Jill, do you remember the last time you saw your real mom?”

  “Mommy is right here,” Jill replied.

  Eric and Amy jumped as the spirit’s voice echoed in their minds. Eric’s mouth went slack and he nearly dropped his camera into the fluff of insulation between the rafters. Amy went paler, but her trembling stopped.

  “Amy isn’t your mom. You know that.”

  Jill shook her head and tried to pull away. Vincent kept hold on her, though each time she jerked, it felt like a tendon in his arm was being yanked out.

  “Jill, I’m not your mom. Don’t you remember your parents?”

  “No… no! Mommy! Mommy ignored me! She hates me!”

  Bursts of energy shot through Vincent’s body with each cry. Eric dropped his camera into his lap to switch the hand that held Vincent’s so he could wrap his other arm around the psychic’s shoulders.

  “She didn’t hate you. No mother would hate her child!” Amy fought tears as she pled with the spirit. “I bet she was crying day and night when she lost you.”

  “I didn’t get lost!” Jill could barely talk through her hiccupping sobs. “I got real sick and went to sleep and then I woke up and everyone ignored me! Even Mommy!”

  “You didn’t go to sleep. You died. Do you know what that means?” Vincent asked. He didn’t know if he was fighting tears or if they’d already won. Connected like this, he couldn’t even tell which emotions were his own.

  Jill’s sobs slowed as she processed Vincent’s words. “Died? I didn’t get better…? The nice nurse said I’d get better.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I wish I could hug you. Can I?” Amy held her arms out for Jill to nestle up against her. The connection was strong enough for the girl to at least feel the warmth of a hug, even if Amy was only hugging air.

  “Did Daddy flush me in the toilet too?” Jill asked after a while.

  A laugh snuck through the sadness built up in Vincent’s chest. “What?”

  “My fishy, Mr. Fins, he died and Daddy flushed him in the toilet. He said that’s how he went to fishy heaven.”

  “Why would a human go to fishy heaven?” Eric asked. His flawless logic made Jill’s eyes go wide with understanding.

  “I’m sure your parents are waiting for you. Just let go of your doll and you’ll go to see them,” Vincent explained. “You can’t stay here any longer.”

  Jill took a few steps back. Vincent let her break the connection. She held her doll out in front of her and lifted her fingers one by one until only her index finger and thumb held the doll’s arms.

  “I’m scared…” she whispered. “I don’t want to go by myself.”

  “You won’t be by yourself. Your mom will come get you.” Vincent slouched against Eric, exhausted. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  Jill hugged her doll to her chest again and shook her head. “No! I’m not going!”

  The doll dropped into the insulation and dust between the rafters and she disappeared.

  “Did she…?” Amy whispered.

  Vincent shook his head. “She was too scared. She’s hiding in that doll again.”

  “Will she be upset if we took it downstairs? My legs are killing me…” Eric complained.

  Amy carefully retrieved the doll and brushed the dust from its dress. She led the way out of the attic, cradling it in her arms.

  “I can take the doll and try again later. She’s too agitated right now and I’m too tired,” Vincent said. He’d collapsed onto Amy’s sofa and would have happily fallen asleep there if she let him.

  Amy sat with the doll in her lap, fixing the bows and detangling the hair with her fingers. “No…. I think I’ll keep talking to her. I won’t be able to hear her without you, but maybe I can convince her anyway. At the very least, I don’t want her to be all alone.”

  “Suit yourself.” Vincent handed her his card and slowly got to his feet. “Bring her to me if it’s too much. I’ll give you a discount today since we couldn’t solve the problem.”

  “Discount? I didn’t know there’d be a fee.” Amy glanced over her shoulder at Eric, who paused packing his gear away to frown at Vincent.

  “Did you think I’d go through all that for free? I need to eat, too.”

  Neither Eric nor Amy could dispute his logic and she went to fetch her purse.

  ~*~

  Back in the car, the migraine hit. Halfway home, the nausea. Eric didn’t try to hold conversation and kept the music low. He even reached over to rub Vincent’s back until it made him swerve into another lane.

  “Do you need help getting inside?” Eric asked as he parked.

  “I’m not dying. I’ll be fine.” Vincent’s legs, however, didn’t agree. They felt like jelly when he tried to stand and sent him right back into the passenger seat.

  Eric came around and pulled Vincent to his feet, helping him to the door. Vincent pushed him away as he stepped inside, but the other man followed him anyway. He climbed onto the sofa and dropped face down into one of the soft throw pillows.

  Eric sat on the coffee table again and took one of Vincent’s hands, pinching the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sure you’re okay? Does this happen every time?”

  “Not every time. Connecting you and Amy to her and all the fighting back the girl did just took a lot.” Vincent stared at the hand getting Eric’s odd massage. “What are you doing?”

  “Oh, sorry. That’s probably weird.” Eric dropped Vincent’s hand and wrung his in his lap. “It’s a pressure point thing. My grandma always did it for me when I had a headache as a kid. I thought it helped….”

  Vincent tucked his hand under the pillow, still tender where Eric pinched it. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re incredible,” Eric whispered. The stammering continuation and flushed pink cheeks only made the compliment stand out more. “I-I mean, your gift is incredible. How you can help spirits.”

  Gift.

  He said it again.

  Vincent rolled over to stare up at Eric. “Well, at least you can’t say I’m faking it.”

  “I told you. I never thought you were faking anything. I trust you.”

  Vincent rolled away from Eric again. He felt his cheeks burn under that smile Eric was giving him. It was probably just residual shyness of a little girl.

  “But what you did with Jill…. Wouldn’t that be dangerous with an evil spirt?”

  “There’s no such thing as ‘evil spirits.’ They’re all scared or confused, like that little girl. They need as much closure as the living.”

  He felt Eric’s gaze burning into him and glanced over his shoulder. He was right. Eric was staring at him, smiling like an idiot.

  “What? I can help them, so I do. That’s it.”

  Eric blinked and averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing pink. “Sorry. I’ve just never met someone like you is all.”

  “Me either…” Vincent muttered.

  “I won’t bring big jobs like this to you often if it makes you sick. But I hope you’ll come with me again sometime.”

  Vincent grunted in response and didn’t look up until he heard his front door close behind Eric.

  After a moment, he tried massaging his hand in the same way. The sensation relaxed him and eased the pain enough for his eyelids to grow heavy. But as he drifted to sleep, his hand naturally stopped its massage and the pain once again became his focus.

  “Why show me something I can’t do on my own…?”