“Well, it’s the only nasty thing I’ve ever done.”
“Is it, um, reversible?”
“Oh, certainly.”
“But you’ve never reversed it?”
“Oh, hell no. Not until he comes crawling back to me with an apology.”
“Does he know you’re responsible?”
“Who the hell knows? I never heard from him again.”
“Maybe he killed himself.”
“No. Last I heard, he was partying harder than ever.”
“And disappointing a lot of women,” I said.
“One can only hope.”
I shook my head and laughed some more. We both finished our teas and sat quietly for a moment.
“So,” I said. “You really are a witch.”
“I think so, yes. Does that surprise you?”
I looked at her some more, and as I did so, I raised my hands slowly. The table, which had been wobbling between us, quit wobbling...and lifted slowly off the ground. It continued to lift, the higher I raised my hands.
I didn’t elevate it so high as to draw a lot of attention. Just enough to get Ivy’s attention. And I had it. Completely.
Her mouth dropped open as she looked at me, then dipped her head under the table, then back up at me.
“Holy shit,” she said.
I nodded and lowered my hands, and the table lowered with them, settling back into place, and still as wobbly as ever.
She said, “You’re a...a...”
“A witch, too?” I offered.
“But...but, you’re a personal trainer and, I think you said, a telephone psychic. I don’t understand all of this.”
I smiled and said, “We have a lot to talk about.”
Chapter Ten
I was in my Spirit Chair.
Everyone needs a Spirit Chair. Or a Prayer Chair. Or a Meditation Chair. Whatever you want to call it. Stick it in the corner of your bedroom, living room, yoga room, basement, attic, garage...just wherever you can find some peace and quiet for about a half an hour.
My Spirit Chair was just an old recliner that was about as comfortable as comfortable gets, which was sometimes a problem. Sometimes, during deep meditations, I tended to nod off. Not a good thing.
Now, it was just after noon, and I had already showered after my session with Ivy...and after our long talk, too. I had a lot to process, including what to do about Billy’s imminent death, his murderous daughter, and his haunted house.
In each hand, I held an object. In my right was a stone that was important to me, a stone I’d collected at Mount Shasta on a recent trip. It had been a trip where I had deeply connected with Mother Earth. In my left hand was a run-of-the-mill crystal that one could find in any New Age shop.
I loosely held both the rock and crystal, my hands in my lap. My legs were crossed as I sat comfortably in the Spirit Chair. Yes, it was also called a Lazy-Boy by those with less imagination.
Anyway, my head naturally lolled forward, my chin lightly pressing against my chest. I knew that the “proper” meditation technique was for my head to be straight. Screw proper, this was more comfortable.
More importantly, it worked.
At least, for me.
If nothing else, it was where I unwound, where I centered myself, and where I found peace in a very stressful world. In fact, right outside my bedroom window was the hustle and bustle of Beverly Hills where big deals were made every day, and spending a lot of money was the norm. Out there, life was stressful.
In here, within my Spirit Chair, was pure bliss.
The crystal and rock were there for a reason, and not because I was into all that woo-woo New Age stuff, although a lot of that woo-woo New Age stuff was kind of fun, too. Whatever it took to connect to Spirit. My thing happened to be the Spirit Chair and meditation. Someone else’s thing might have been a prayer mat, a church, a walk in the woods, a yoga class, or watching Late Night with Jimmy Fallon.
Personally, I liked peace and quiet...and holding crystals. Crystals, for me, tended to raise my energy levels. Or, as Millicent called it, “raising my frequency,” although I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. All I knew was that crystals—and, in particular, the Mount Shasta rock—helped me to connect faster and deeper to the spiritual side of life.
That was what I was doing now.
I closed my eyes and held the stones loosely in my lap, wrapping my fingers around them just enough to have a good grip, but not so tightly that I wasn’t relaxed. It was always a delicate balance to be relaxed enough to commune with the higher energies, but not so relaxed that I found myself snoring softly. Or loudly.
Now, I was determined to stay awake, to truly connect to Spirit; or, in this case, one particular spirit.
A very big spirit.
Mother Earth, in fact.
There was, of course, no guarantee I would make the connection to her, although of late, she had taken an interest in me.
Yes, lucky me.
I took long, slow breaths, breathing in for two beats, and out for one beat. Always longer in than out. Drawing in the breath of life, as many traditions believed—and I thought, accurately—that our breathing connected us to the spirit world. Control of breath, control of thought, control of body...yes, that was the gateway into the unknown.
As always, I had done a small prayer of protection and guidance, letting my intentions be known. And my intentions were to contact peaceful spirits, loving spirits, and, if possible, Mother Earth herself.
In and out, in and out.
Stray thoughts appeared...my new witchy client, killers, blood and death, Russell Crowe’s smile. I lingered on Russell Crowe’s smile...then let that go, along with all the other stray thoughts.
I sought complete emptiness.
I sought complete release from this world, so that I could be untethered...and drift into the next.
Time passed. I wasn’t sure how long went by. I didn’t think it had been very long, but I had been wrong before. Sometimes when I thought only minutes had passed, whole hours, in fact, had passed.
Now, I was only vaguely aware of the passage of time. Mostly, I was aware that I’d slipped out of time. Yes, my body was sitting there on the Lazy Boy, experiencing time, but my mind had gone to a place that was both timeless and eternal.
It is peaceful here, although I am not sure where I am. It is peaceful and relaxing and I wonder if I am asleep.
Yet, I was aware of my body, of peace, of easy breathing. I was not snoring lightly, or even loudly. I was breathing easily.
Peace and eternity and timelessness...it was all here, wrapped in something that was beyond what I could comprehend, at least in my physical state. I was still too grounded to know, exactly, what was happening. But that was okay. I was not supposed to know all. That was the message I always received. Leave some mysteries for after Earth. Mysteries were a good thing. The mysterious compelled humans to search and expand and grow and evolve.