Feigning calm, she returned to her duffel bag and took out one of the bundles of sage, a lighter, and an ashtray made from half an abalone shell. She lit the sage and smudged all around the room. Why sage repelled ghosts she had no idea, but the herb never failed to send the dead on their way.
Soon the temperature returned to normal, and the feeling of dread receded. She stubbed the sage into the abalone to snuff the burning ends and placed the shell on top of a dresser. Meredith returned to her duffel for the wooden box of protective crystals she always carried with her. She should’ve set up the perimeter of protection first thing, but she’d had no reason to suspect Garretsville harbored dangerous spirits.
She placed the smoky quartz on one of the dressers. Smoky quartz would lend her both strength and protection from evil directed at her. The large chunk of uncut peridot she slid under the pillow on the twin bed where she’d sleep—that crystal repelled otherworldly beings of all kinds.
The amethyst and jet she set on the other dresser. The two stones placed together amplified the presence of approaching spirits—kind of like the way a video security system warned of approaching intruders.
The three ghosts who had invaded her space were a game changer. Confused or traumatized spirits were easy to help. Evil spirits were another matter altogether, and it was never wise to attempt dislodging those types on her own. A lone ghost whisperer ran the risk of being possessed by spirits intending to do harm. Three of them working together posed a threat she didn’t want to face. She needed to call home for help or at least advice.
“Is that pot I smell?” John called as he knocked on her door.
Meredith grabbed the abalone shell holding the sage and hurried to open her door. “No, it’s sage,” she said, holding out the shell for his inspection. “I burn it to—”
“To cleanse an area of negativity and send ghosts packing.” He nodded and smiled. He glanced around her room, taking note of the stones she’d placed in various spots. “My mistake. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
“No lie, Garretsville is haunted. The wife and I have a bag of moonrise crystals with us. You might know it as shungite. We’ve found moonrise crystals far superior to jet, onyx, or obsidian for keeping unwanted phantoms away. Would you like a few to add to your collection?”
“Umm … sure.” Another surprising development to ponder.
“Once you’re finished unpacking, join us in the living room. Judy’s making supper for everyone, and we need to discuss housekeeping stuff.”
“Okay. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Great. Bring the sage, and we can smudge the entire interior. I don’t care for the chill that surrounds the dead, and I’d just as soon keep them out of the cabin.”
“I agree.”
John nodded and left, and she considered what she’d learned about her three cabinmates. None of this should surprise her. Only individuals willing to endure the presence of ghosts would’ve applied for the summer program in Garretsville. The Schultes had done so year after year, and Oliver looked forward to ghostly encounters.
Still, the revelations altered her thinking when it came to how she should handle her own reasons for coming to this haunted town. The three people she shared the cabin with had no idea how dangerous ghostly encounters could be. Not only would she help spirits cross, but she’d also need to shield her coworkers from harm.
Meredith hiked up the hill to the wooden platform overlooking Garretsville and the Garnet Mountains. She checked her phone for a signal. Four bars, enough to chat with her sisters without heading into Missoula. Thermal water bottle in hand, she dropped down to sit on the wooden railroad ties forming the deck of the overlook.
She and the other volunteers had practiced every aspect of their duties all day yesterday, which had left her too tired to visit the saloon last night. They’d practice more today, which was Sunday, and visitors would begin arriving on Tuesday.
For the moment, all she wanted was to enjoy the view, the gorgeous Montana sky, and the early morning birdsong. Meredith relaxed the bunched muscles between her shoulders.
Her sisters wouldn’t call for another thirty minutes. Wanting to make sure she had enough signal before their weekly chat, she’d set out early enough to make it to town if she had to. She leaned back against a railing post just as the chill of the dead settled over her—no malevolence, only the ordinary cold worn by an ordinary ghost.
“Hello, pretty lassie.”
“My name is Meredith MacCarthy, not pretty lassie.” The ghost from the gift shop came to hover in front of her. This wasn’t the first time a ghost had used a cheesy come-on line with her. Ridiculous and frustrating, but symptomatic of a spirit’s unwillingness to accept their own state of deadness.
“A fine Irish name it is too. Hello, Meredith MacCarthy,” he said, pronouncing her surname as MacCartty. “My name is Daniel Cavanaugh. How is it you not only see me, but you hear me as well? I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
Groaning inwardly, she launched into why she had the abilities she did. “One of my long-ago Irish ancestors consorted with one of the Tuatha dé Danann, and the union produced a child. That child passed the fae genes on to the next generation, and so forth and so on. I’ve inherited a strand or two of fae DNA, and that is where my abilities originated.” She’d offered this explanation so many times over the years—to the dead and to the living—that the words came out automatically.
“I know nothing of dee-an-ay strands, but I gather you’ve a touch of fae blood.” Daniel sat down beside her.
Once again she was struck by how gorgeous he’d been. His Celtic features—a long, straight nose, sculpted cheeks, chin, and jaw, and
