“It’s weird, talking about this stuff to a stranger.” Frida fidgeted in the oxblood leather chair. Playing with her necklace, she looked out of the big picture window at the marshmallow world. Her eyes flickered around the warm wood interior and down at her mug of tea.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning. The first sign was my glasses. I kept losing them. I’d thought they were in my purse and they were on my bedside table or in my console. Then it got weird. They were in the fridge or beneath the dining room table, then in the mailbox. Once I found my glasses inside an unopened box of cereal.”

Frida shivered at the memory. Ice crystals flashed as the wind outside the window picked up. She focused on her mug.

“Next was my car keys, my wallet, my phone, nothing was where it should be. Roge said I just needed more sleep. I got more sleep. Ten hours a day, naps, sleeping pills, it was not enough. Nothing worked.

“I was scared of myself. Was I doing this? How was this possible? One morning I had a thing--I’m an event planner or at least I was, my boyfriend Roger helps me out now—anyway I had this thing I could not be late. I locked all my necessaries in a box. It was empty. I lost it. I howled and my keys and wallet and everything flew at my face,” Frida said, absently rubbing the red scar by her hairline. Snow began to fall in powdery clumps as the wind churned.

“My furniture, I would wake up to my furniture in different places. Just a little at first so I would stub my my toe or trip over the ottoman. It got worse and worse. I can’t sleep alone. Things move in my office out of the corner of my eye. The kitchen chairs stacked on the table while my back was turned—Am I crazy? Tell me. Margie said you could help. I’ve come all this way to your house in the middle of nowhere. Tell me, Mr. Snickers, am I crazy!” Frida leapt from the chair. The entire house vibrated plummeted by wintry gusts.

“Keep your shirt on, sister. No need to tear the house down. It’s a rental. How would I know if you’re crazy? All chicks are kinda nuts,” Paul said. Leaning back in an easy chair, Paul glanced up from his phone. Paullie was in head to toe Addias including his handpainted kicks. Frida thought he looked like a jock who peaked in high school but couldn’t admit. With a smug smile, Paulie gave her a knowing look. She spun away and hugged her sides.

Her mug wrenched from her fingers and flew at Paulie’s head. Deftly he caught it and set the mug down on the coffee table.

“I’m no touchy feely medium. I’m a freelance witchfinder general. I find things, cursed things. You could be crazy maybe but you’re haunted most def. Some thing, some item, new to you possesses a hungry energy,” Paul said.

Clutching at her necklace, Frida paced the study. “This is insane. I haven’t bought any antiques.”

Paulie looked at her chest. Her mug shook on the coffee table. Paulie chuckled. “What about the ice, hot stuff?”

“This, my necklace is a gift from Roger. It belonged to his grandmother. He gave it to me for my birthday.” Frida clutched at the golden oval locket with droplets of garnets.

“Gird your loin, sugar hips, because your boytoy’s nana was Lady Elphaba, a 18th century witch known for bathing in the blood of virgins to regain her youth,” Paulie said holding out his phone with a photo of an old painting. Frida leaned over and saw her necklace on a maleficent beauty. With a pencil, Paulie slipped the chain off Frida’s neck. He dropped it into a bowl of potato chips. The necklace began to writhe and sizzle. When it popped into a blue flame, Paulie doused it with the cold tea. Frida sank back into her chair. Bitter smoke surrounded them.

“So that it, Mr. Snickers. It’s over.” Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes.

Hail battered the house’s siding. Three heavy knocks thundered at the front door. Paulie hauled her up to her toes.

“The wards will hold for a while but we still need to hustle on the cleansing ritual. Something has gone to a lot of trouble to isolate you and make you think you have a poltergeist. I got a hex circle on the kitchen floor, grab the bowl, Frida baby, and call me Candy everybody does.”

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