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𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐀𝐍

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Billie hovered her hand in the air, feeling the very energy of the house. "So much pain here,"

Sunshine shifted her weight, and her swollen belly and aching back made it difficult for her to stand for long. Constance massaged her temples while Violet sat nervously in a chair in the living room, her eyes flicking between the others.

"So much longing and regret," Billie continued, her gaze sweeping across the room before landing on Sunshine. Her eyes dropped to her stomach. "Fear. Sadness. Guilt."

"And perversion," Constance interjected, moving behind Violet's chair, resting her hands on the back. "Now, can you ferret out the fairies for us? I mean, that's our main concern at the moment."

Billie didn't acknowledge Constance, her eyes fixed on Violet, watching her intently. "Targeting a particular spirit will be difficult. This house is... crowded."

Violet glanced uneasily at Billie, their silent exchange thick with unspoken understanding.

Constance rubbed her hands together. "So what can we do?"

Billie exhaled slowly. "Somehow, we have to try and dislodge them from the paramagnetic grip of this place."

Violet stood, frowning as she exchanged a confused look with Sunshine. "The what?"

"The evil," Billie clarified, guiding the women into the hallway. "It's a force, just like any other. Pure physics. Real and powerful. Created by events—events that unleash psychic energy into the environment, where it's absorbed."

They stopped in the dining room, and Billie turned to face them. "Like a battery stores energy. You see it all the time in places like prisons or asylums. Negative energy feeds on trauma and pain, drawing more to it."

Sunshine wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a chill crawl up her spine at Billie's words.

"The force in this house," Billie went on, "is larger than any individual trauma. It has a need. It wants to break through, to move in our world. It's using those trapped between this world and the next as conduits."

Constance, leaning casually against the archway, waved a hand dismissively. "That's all very interesting but what do we do about the gays? I mean, how do we get rid of them?"

"There might be a way, but I can't promise—" Billie suddenly stopped, her head tilting as if sensing a shift in the air. "He shouldn't be here."

Sunshine followed Billie's gaze over her shoulder. "Tate."

"That's my boy," Constance pointed. "That's Tate."

"I want to help," Tate said from the doorway.

Billie's eyes narrowed, her body tense. "You've helped enough."

Sunshine's attention snapped to Billie. What was it about Tate's energy that set her off so deeply? There was something Billie wasn't saying.

"Not now, Tate," Constance waved him off. "Go on."

Even after Tate left, Billie seemed visibly shaken, her hand steadying herself against the table.

"What was that about?" Violet asked, her brow furrowed, just as confused by Billie's reaction.

Constance let out a small, uneasy chuckle, though it lacked sincerity. She stepped up beside Billie. "It's just that, sometimes, when a medium meets a spirit so directly, it has a... powerful effect. That's all."

Sunshine frowned, sensing something off. If that were true, wouldn't Billie have reacted the same way to Violet? Before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. "You mean an evil spirit?"

Billie and Constance exchanged a quick, guarded look before Constance turned back to Sunshine. "It's nothing to concern yourself about."

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The four women gathered around the dining table, a bottle of whiskey sitting between them. Billie took a long swallow from her glass, her eyes flicking up to Sunshine, who sat anxiously playing with her hands on the table.

"It's difficult to banish a spirit," Billie began, "but not impossible. The most successful attempt I know of happened when America was still known as the New World."

Violet scoffed, her head resting on her hand. "Are you kidding? That's, like, 500 years ago."

Billie turned her gaze to Violet. "Spirits don't follow our physical laws. Nor are they bound by time. The only thing they share with the living is their suffering—regret, pain, loneliness."

"In 1590, on the coast of what we now call North Carolina, the entire colony of Roanoke—117 men, women, and children—died mysteriously. It became known as the Ghost Colony because their spirits lingered, haunting the native tribes nearby, killing indiscriminately."

Billie slid her empty glass toward Constance, who wordlessly refilled it.

"The tribe's elder knew he had to act," Billie continued. "He cast a banishment curse. First, he gathered personal items belonging to the dead colonists and burned them. The ghosts appeared, drawn by their talismans. But before they could attack, the elder completed the curse that would banish them forever."

Sunshine leaned forward. "How?"

"By uttering a single word," Billie said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The same word found carved into a post at the abandoned colony."

The room went silent as they waited for her to speak.

"Croatoan."

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Sunshine and Violet entered the room, their faces drained, lost in thought. Tate, who had been anxiously pacing, stopped in his tracks and turned to them.

"What did she say?" he asked, hurrying over.

"We have to get something of his," Sunshine replied, her arms hanging limply by her sides. "Something important."

"If we have the talisman and do this ritual, he'll be gone," Violet added, trying to sound confident.

Tate scoffed, his expression darkening. "That sounds like bullshit." He turned away and resumed pacing.

"I know it sounds crazy, but what other choice do we have?" Sunshine sighed, rubbing her temples. "Billie Dean's a professional, and right now, she's all we've got."

Violet's brow furrowed in thought. "The bigger guy... he wears a ring. Like a wedding ring, but I can't remember which hand."

Tate bit his nails nervously, then abruptly stopped, his eyes narrowing. "I don't trust her!"

"Why'd she say all that stuff about me?" Tate's voice wavered as he crossed his arms, looking between the two sisters. "I did something bad, didn't I?"

Sunshine and Violet exchanged an uneasy glance before looking back at him.

Sunshine stepped closer, her hands gently resting on his arms, trying to calm him. "We need to try, Tate. For us. For the baby."

The tension in Tate's face softened at her touch. After a moment, he nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"I love you," Sunshine said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips as she raised her hand to caress his cheek.

Tate leaned into her hand, his eyes closing briefly as he placed his own hand over hers. "I love you," he whispered.

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When Violet and Tate returned with the stolen objects—a ring and a Rolex watch—the two sisters descended into the basement. Sunshine approached the furnace, already burning with crackling wood, casting a nervous glance at Violet. Violet just shrugged, uncertain herself. Sunshine motioned for the items.

"Hand those to me?"

Violet placed the ring and watch into Sunshine's outstretched hands. Sunshine stared down at them as she inhaled deeply, hoping the ritual would work. She tossed the objects into the fire.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, young lady?"

Chad's voice pierced the silence, startling both sisters. They spun around, eyes wide as they saw him standing behind them, holding broken pieces of the red crib from upstairs.

"Is that my $12,000 watch you just threw into the furnace?" Chad asked incredulously, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Sunshine and Violet exchanged a quick look, gathering their courage, before turning back to him and shouting in unison, "Croatoan! Croatoan! Croatoan!"

For a moment, Chad's body convulsed violently as if the words had triggered some sort of exorcism. He dropped the crib pieces, his expression twisted in apparent agony. Then, to their horror, he started laughing. Straightening up, he flashed a smug grin.

"Just kidding."

"Son of a bitch," Sunshine muttered under her breath.

Chad bent down, picking up one of the wooden pieces and pointing it at them like a scolding teacher. "Let me guess, that little gem came from the press-on nail psychic who was here earlier? The Roanoke spell? Really?"

Sunshine and Violet stood frozen, realizing their plan had failed.

"Please, tell me you'll be slitting the throat of a chicken next, because I've always found that very dramatic." Chad continued with a smirk. "I also quite enjoy the burning of the sage to rid the house of spirits."

"It didn't work," Violet whispered, her voice shaky.

A part of Sunshine had expected that, but she'd still hoped. Anything was better than feeling this helpless.

"Of course, it didn't work," Chad scoffed, shaking his head. "It's bullshit. It's all bullshit. People make up these spells and chants in order to feel like they're in control. Well, guess what? They're not. Never have been."

Chad then snapped the wooden piece in half and tossed it into the furnace.

"What are you doing?" Sunshine asked, confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

"My own bullshit ritual," Chad replied casually, grabbing another piece of the crib. "There's not going to be any nursery," he sighed heavily, breaking another piece in half and throwing it into the fire. "We're not gonna be parents. Your and your mother's babies are safe. From us, at least. I'm doomed to spend eternity with a man who doesn't love me."

Sunshine felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly, a quiet breath of relief escaping her lips.

Chad turned his gaze to Sunshine, eyes narrowing. "Of course, it could be worse. Your man does love you... but he'll always be a monster."

"You're wrong," Violet interjected, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Tate's changed. He doesn't even remember what he did."

"Oh?" Chad tilted his head toward her, mocking curiosity. "When did he change? When he murdered me? When he murdered my boyfriend?"

Sunshine's relief shattered instantly, dread creeping back into her veins.

Chad's smirk deepened as he turned his attention toward Sunshine. "Or did he change when he raped your sister?"

"What?" Sunshine's blood ran cold, her mind going blank as she blinked in shock. "He wouldn't do that... You don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe not," Chad shrugged. "But I do know one thing." He stepped closer to her, his breath brushing against her cheek as he whispered, "He sure looks good in a rubber suit."

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