15. Candlelight

Contrary to what it had seemed, Camilla didn't give up on me.

"I'm sorry for what I said yesterday," her voice comes through my phone. I only plugged it in today and was surprised to see just how many voice messages she had left over the past two weeks. This one, though, is recent—sent an hour ago. "I didn't mean it. You are my best friend, Claire. I need you to remember that. I just..."

I clench my hand at my side, pull my knees closer to my chest, and wipe away a stray tear. There's no need for me to listen further. I know she's sorry, and I forgive her. Damn it... Not only do I forgive her, but I also feel like the worst person ever. It's me who should be apologizing. I should, but I'm too damn ashamed to do anything more than just listen to her sad voice.

After she left yesterday, I decided to take a sleeping pill. But this time, I didn't pop it as soon as the fear started creeping in like it always does. I held off. I fought against it and didn't give in right away. And... I think I actually won this time.

Of course, that mysterious presence didn't show itself. If it had, I'd have had no choice but to run away immediately. Besides the usual feeling of being watched, I didn't have any symptoms that made me question if yesterday's events were real. I got lucky.

Anyway, the moment I met up with Echo, I felt all cozy and comfortable, and all my worries disappeared. The talk with Camilla got pushed to the back of my mind, and it didn't make me want to cry anymore. It was like nothing even happened.

Until I woke up today, that is.

That's when everything came crashing down. The conversation with her, her reactions, the way she looked at me like I was a traitor. The way my heart was squeezing in my chest, like I didn't deserve it to keep beating.

So, I decided to turn my phone on. Now, I scroll through countless messages and calls and press play on another voice recording.

"I was thinking about everything last night, Claire," Cam's voice comes through, quiet and somber, sounding more like she's hosting a true crime podcast than leaving me a voicemail. She couldn't have known I'd plug my phone in, so this message feels like something I wasn't even meant to hear. "I think it's all my fault. If you're listening to this, I know what you're thinking. Yeah, sure, I'd say the pills were a bad idea after everything went south and I'd be regretting it now."

She's right. That's exactly what I'm thinking.

"Well, that's not what I mean, Clarity," she says, her voice dripping with a mix of regret and something that feels a lot like guilt. My stomach twists at the nickname—Clarity—one my dad used to call me. It's so unfair of her to use it now, to manipulate my emotions like this. And damn, it's working. I'm totally hooked.

"Remember how I mentioned you might be haunted about a month ago? I decided to try that guardian spirit summoning thing... Honey, I think I made things worse for you."

My heart races as her words sink in. My whole body goes on high alert, adrenaline flooding my system. How can Camilla possibly know about the presence? How? But she did. Even before summoning Echo, she knew that something was off. That's why she said that joke in the first place.

"I thought it might protect you," she continues on the recording, her voice cracking just a bit. "I learned about it from a friend in the witch community online. It sounded like something that could help with whatever was troubling you. I didn't think it would... I didn't think it would actually make things worse."

I pause the message, my breathing more erratic than I'd like. After taking a few deep, painful breaths, I press play again.

"I'm so sorry. I'm trying to figure out how to undo it or at least make it right," she continues earnestly. "I'm talking to some people who know more about these things. The owner of Esoteric Cat is one of them. She has a book she wants to show me. What I described about you seems similar to something in there, so... I'm meeting her at one. I don't know if you'll listen to this, but I'll send another message once I find some answers. Or better yet... I might just come visit you again. Hope you don't scratch me to death this time. Love you. Always."

The message ends, leaving me in silence. I glance at the clock—it's been an hour, and still no reply. Esoteric Cat, huh? That strange place where that weird cat scratched me. The scratch has healed, but there's still a faint red line on the back of my hand. I bring that hand to my mouth, nervously biting my nails.

"What should I do?" I mutter aloud, my heart pounding as if it might leap out of my chest any second. "Should I just lock the doors and pretend I'm not here when she comes over? No… She'll know I saw the messages; it showed up as ‘read.' She'll know I'm ignoring her."

God knows what Camilla might do if she thinks I'm in danger. She's capable of anything. She could contact my landlord, learn how to pick locks, or whatever else it takes. One way or another, she'll find her way into my apartment and do whatever she's set her mind on.

Banishing the presence... Is that even possible? If Echo were here, I'd ask him.

Damn it! Why didn't I ask him this earlier? Shouldn't that have been the first thing we talked about after realizing something was actually chasing me? I shake my head in frustration.

"It doesn't matter. Echo's not here, and he can't help," I tell myself. "I need to figure this out on my own."

I feel like a grain of sand in a sandstorm. What can I really do here alone, with no power? My muscles are weak; I'm like a single blade of grass in a field, the wind pulling at me from all sides—bending, tearing, trying to uproot me.

Yet, here I am, still standing. Even when I don't want to, I'm still standing.

Staying home and waiting is pointless. Taking pills will only make Cam call an ambulance. Running isn't an option either, not with my condition. I need to face this head-on. I'll go to that damn Esoteric Cat place and figure out what to do from there.

Taking a deep breath, I get up from the couch, trying to ignore the pain in my legs as I steady myself. Stars flash in front of my eyes, and my vision gets blurry. But sheer willpower and fear push me to the hallway. I slip on my shoes and coat, make it down the stairs with my phone in hand, the Uber app open on the screen.

"Are you okay, miss?" the driver asks after I find him and collapse into the backseat, sweat beading on my forehead. His concern is evident, and it's not hard to see why. I must look as rough as I feel—with dark circles under my eyes, my skin pale and slick with sweat, and my hair a complete mess. I look like a ghost.

"Oh, yeah," I mutter, forcing a weak smile. "Just one of those days, you know?"

The driver nods, doubt flickering in his eyes, but he turns back to the road and pulls away from the curb.

The ride to Esoteric Cat feels like it's taking forever compared to my last trip with Cam. Every bump and turn makes me more uneasy. I lean against the window, watching the city blur by—a mix of lights and shadows that makes me even dizzier. As we approach the destination, my heart begins to pound against my ribcage so strongly that I feel nauseous.

Esoteric Cat, tucked between an old bookstore and a closed bakery, doesn't look all that intimidating from the outside. I used to think it was just a quirky antique and candle shop, but now that I know it's more than that, just the sight of it makes me queasy.

Look at me, panting, sweating, and overwhelmed with dread, when just a month ago, I dismissed all this spiritual nonsense. I called it bullshit. Now I'm fucking shaking.

The car stops, and I thank the driver, my voice barely above a whisper. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, the cool air hits me like a slap. I straighten up, take a deep breath, and head towards the shop.

It looks just like I remember. The cramped, dimly lit space is packed with shelves full of books, crystals of every size and color, and candles giving off a faint glow. The incense smell is strong, filling my nose and scratching at my throat—it's honestly making me feel more sick than I already do.

"Sorry, we're closed," a voice calls from the narrow hallway, the same one I walked through last time to get to the checkout. It sounds a bit tense, like the person is as nervous as I am.

But I didn't come all this way just to leave now.

With shaky legs, I move through the crowded aisles, my eyes darting nervously from shelf to shelf. I can feel a presence clutching me tight, breathing down my neck right now. I don't know what it is. I just… I just don't feel right here. Like the shadows are about to jump out from the wooden furniture at any moment. With every step I take, it feels like I'm being pulled deeper into some unwanted darkness.

No… You can't turn around now, Claire. Don't even think about it.

Taking a deep breath, I push forward, my heart racing like crazy. When I get to the narrow hallway where I heard the voice, I stop, my hand hesitating in mid-air. The smell of incense is stronger here, mixed with the faint scent of old books and something else I can't quite place.

But nobody's here.

"Hello?" I call out softly, my voice bouncing off the walls. "Are you still here?"

Silence. Where did that person go?

My palms are sweaty as I take another shaky step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath me. Each sound echoes in the creepy silence, sending chills down my spine. Then, out of nowhere, I see her—a figure stepping out of the shadows, her thin outline flickering in the dim candlelight. My heart leaps into my throat.

It's just the damn shop owner, Claire. Deep breaths.

"Oh, it's you," she says, squinting to focus on me. There's no mistaking the recognition in her eyes. And it's not the good kind. "What are you doing here?"

A chill runs through me, but I square my shoulders, trying to appear unfazed, though my voice betrays me.

"Is… um… is Cam here?" I ask. "I got a message from her. I know you two are figuring out what might be…"

I can't finish the sentence.

"Yes," she cuts in. Her hand absentmindedly grasps a simple medallion hanging around her neck—a rock of some kind, though I wouldn't know what even if I cared to try. "She's here."

She looks just like she did last time: face tattoos, a long flowy dress down to her ankles, piercing eyes, and dreadlocks. Even though her face looks as young as mine at nineteen, she acts way older. Some would say she's an old soul. I say she's fucking creepy.

Worst of all, as I stand here next to her, I feel like the shadows might just swallow this place whole, or worse, consume me. I feel the presence slither against my subconscious, gliding against my tired mind, watching me with its pitch-black eyes.

The presence doesn't like her. It doesn't want me near her.

It's so bad, that my hand reaches to clutch my shirt from just how this nauseating sensation is. That's when Camilla appears in my peripheral.

"Claire?" Her voice holds a note of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I asked her the same thing," the shop owner chimes in. "She still hasn't answered."

The panic in their voices makes me swallow hard. They're anxious about me being here. They don't want me here. That realization makes me recoil, a tightness squeezing my chest. Camilla said she didn't mean what she said yesterday… but her actions now suggest otherwise. It's as if she doesn't recognize me anymore, like I'm not the friend she promised never to give up on.

"I, um... I listened to your messages," I say, biting my lip. You know that feeling when someone doesn't want you around? It's not just what they say, but the vibe they give off that makes you feel unwelcome. That's exactly how my best friend is making me feel right now, so I instinctively take a step back. "Maybe... Maybe coming here was a mistake. You know what? I'll just catch a ride back home."

"No!" Camilla shouts, throwing her hands up. She looks puzzled when she sees me flinch from her loud voice. "No, please don't go! It's just..." She pauses and glances at the shop owner.

The shop owner takes a deep breath. "We can't talk freely just yet," she says quietly. "This place can only block out so much bad energy. If we're gonna do this, we need to hurry."

Bad energy…?

It's like they're in their own world, and I'm on the outside looking in. It makes me want to scream. It makes me want to shake both of them. It makes me want to… But as Cam looks back at me with a puzzled expression, I keep quiet. She nods and the shop owner just purses her lip as if she's bracing herself for something.

"Claire, I'm sorry if I seemed off when you arrived. It's just... I wasn't expecting you. After our last conversation, I thought maybe you needed some space—" Cam starts.

"I did," I cut in. "But... I also..." Damn, why is this so hard to say? I take a shaky breath. "I think I need help, Cam. I really need fucking help."

The shop owner lifts her brows, surprise and suspicion flickering across her face. Camilla, however, gives me a small smile and nods. I haven't even apologized yet, but she's already forgiven me.

Maybe this is what she's been waiting for all along. Me, admitting that I've fallen apart. That I'm nothing but scattered ashes. That I'm helpless. I give it to her. Still, I want her to see how hard I'm trying. Really trying, even though the incense is so strong it stings my nose and eyes, almost like poison. The chill on my back gets worse with them around.

Tears fill my eyes.

"Okay," Camilla nods again. "Don't say anything else. Just follow us."

And right then, even though my whole body trembles and the little hairs on my neck stand on end, I know what's coming won't be pleasant. The presence readies its shadows. It's only a matter of time before they attack.