Aunt Beth was great at two things and two things only: summoning the dead and getting drunk before noon.

So it didn’t surprise Cory when he walked into the kitchen to find her leaning clumsily over the counter, her breasts spilling out like putty from her two-sizes-too-small flower-print dress. It was faded and frayed at the edges, but it created the kind of image people expected when they met a medium.

“Morning, sleepy head.” She flashed him that lazy smile of hers. No slur to her voice yet, so that was a good sign.

“Morning, Auntie,” said Cory.

He tensed as she walked up to him and ran her fingers through his hair. Her nails scratched at his scalp and her sour breath wafted over him, hot and chemical.

“You should wear it in a pony this morning. Nice and neat and presentable.”

Presentable like you? He cringed as her nails ran across the back of his neck.

Cory swore that when he finally broke out on his own, started channeling on his own, he’d be the polar opposite of his aunt. But until then, he had little choice but to smile, nod, and obey.

A quick knock made him jump. The front door swung open and Ana stomped in like a sergeant bearing down on the troops.

“For fuck’s sake, Beth, the client is already in the parlor and you’re still here drinking.” She normally wore a sleeveless jean jacket, probably to show off as much of her ripped Brazilian body as possible. But for the actual seances, she switched to a brown turtleneck. Cory figured the agency made her wear it to look more professional.

“I’m on my way, relax.” Aunt Beth walked toward the large black door that separated the “living area” of the house from the street-facing client parlor. She looked back at Cory before opening it. “Get dressed quickly, I need you to really pay attention at this one. It’ll be different.”

“Very quickly,” Ana repeated. “We’re not gonna wait for you. Slip in quietly and get to your spot.”

He nodded and went to his bedroom.

*     *     *
Cory couldn’t remember the first time he heard the dead. They were always just there. A wave of whispering voices, flowing incoherently from the ether. Never loud. Or distracting. Just there.

When he was around eight, he told his mom about what he heard. Her eyes stretched wide and her mouth hung open. But all she said was, “Don’t worry, Cory. It’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.”

As far as Cory was concerned, there was nothing to worry about. He liked the voices. During the day, he barely noticed they were there. At night, their muted chattering soothed him to sleep as he wondered what they might be saying.

Then the laws changed. Communicating with the dead was outlawed and anyone who could hear the other side had to register with the government. Aunt Beth eventually convinced Cory’s mom that he’d be safer with her. That they would all be safer if Cory lived with her, especially his two younger half-sisters.

So his mom kissed him goodbye and told him to be good for Aunt Beth. She’d call every week, she said. But never did.

That was almost a year ago. Since then, Cory figured he had watched Aunt Beth perform at least a dozen seances. He always paid close attention. Marveling at every bit of ritual. Reveling in the awestruck looks on the clients’ faces as they realized they were actually speaking to their dead loved ones.

And he had certainly seen enough seances to know that first-time clients were always nervous. But no one had ever looked as nervous as Janet.

She didn’t seem to notice Cory as he crept into the parlor. Her manicured fingers kept fiddling with the heart pendant around her neck and her knee kept bouncing, like she had an invisible toddler on her lap. But the $1,000 deposit had been paid, so she'd probably go through with it. Most of them did.

Everyone was at their usual stations: Cory sat at the far end of the giant oak table, observing like a good little apprentice. The client always sat directly across from Aunt Beth, who stared down at the faded-brown wallet she turned in her hand. Cory wondered if Janet could smell the wine as well as he could.

And then there was Ana. Always standing, always watching. With her cold, steel eyes and her muscular arms folded across her chest.

“So again, just to be clear,” Aunt Beth said, her eyes still on the wallet. “You probably won’t get more than 30 seconds, so make the best of it. Don’t waste time asking about what’s on the other side because they won’t be able to talk about that. It’ll get censored.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it,” said Janet, her voice thin and tired. “I guess it is censorship, in a way.”

Cory’s aunt nodded. “Let’s get started then.”

“One sec,” said Janet as she pulled out her buzzing cell phone. “Can someone else join us?”

“Someone else?” Ana barked, her voice like an iron rod. “No, it’s way too late for that now.”

“But it’s my daughter. I guess she changed her mind, can she come? She’s almost—”

A gentle knock, knock at the front door.

Ana silently mouthed the word fuck.

“Well, we can’t have someone knocking on the front door and not answer it.” Aunt Beth looked over at Ana. “Now can we?”

Ana shot Beth a cold look, went over to the door and opened it.

In walked a girl, maybe around 14, roughly Cory’s age. She wore giant glasses that made her eyes look huge and a green jacket with sleeves that almost went past her hands.

Cory tensed and his gut went heavy. Since he was home-schooled, he didn’t meet girls very often. And he certainly didn’t practice talking to them.

“Ummmm, hi,” she said, her eyes darting around the room. They settled on Corey for a second and she flashed him an awkward smile. He looked away, embarrassed.

“You said it would just be you. Alone.” Ana’s voice boomed. “You need to clear these things with us first because we need to clear it with our bosses. I’m pretty sure we told you that yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. She said she didn’t want to come and then changed her mind.” Janet spun the little heart around her neck even faster. “I can pay more ... if that would help.”

Aunt Beth put down the brown wallet and looked over at Cory. Just stared at him for a moment. Then she smiled and looked back at Janet. “We can work something out.”

Ana’s face bunched into a tight little ball. “Beth, can I speak to you in the other room?”

Shit, don’t leave me alone with them. What do I say?

“Just give us a second.” Aunt Beth got up and followed Ana back into the kitchen.

Cory smiled. “This should only take a minute.”

“Sorry, but how are you involved in the seance?” Janet asked. Cory forced himself not to look at the girl with the glasses. He worried that everything he did made him seem like some kind of weirdo.

“Beth is my aunt. I’m studying to become a medium as well.”

“You’re studying?” Janet said. “You say that as if you’re going to become a lawyer or a doctor.”

Cory furrowed his brow, and his face turned hot and flushed. He knew he should say something—defend his profession—but he was speechless. Too nervous to open his mouth. That’s when Janet’s daughter jumped in.

“Mom! That’s super-rude.”

Janet’s knee started bouncing again. “I’m sorry. I really am sorry, it’s just that it’s an emotional time for me. For us.”

“It’s okay,” Cory said, puffing himself up. Trying to look strong and sound firm. But he was pretty sure it didn’t come across that way. “I know you’ve been thro—.”

The door behind them popped open and Ana and Aunt Beth walked in.

“Janet, we need to chat, just the three of us,” said Aunt Beth. “The energy changes when different family members are in the room, so we need to go over how that affects things.”

Just the three of them? That struck Cory as odd. He had always been there watching as his aunt spoke to clients. Nothing was ever “off limits” to him when it came to seances.

“Why can’t my daughter stay here for that?” Janet asked.

“Because it’s not a conversation for kids.” Ana kept her stone-cold voice. “And this isn’t a negotiation. Either you follow our rules, or we call it off.”

Janet’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, no—let’s keep it on. That’s fine.”

“Great, Janet.” Aunt Beth smiled, big and sloppy. “I was thinking the kids could—sorry, what was your name, sweetheart?”

“It’s Lilly.”

“I was thinking that Cory and Lilly could hop across the street to the bowling alley for the next hour or so.”

Alone with her? With Lilly?

Excitement and fear rolled together, forming a tight ball in the pit of Cory’s stomach. And for whatever reason, the whispering voices of the dead got a little louder. Like a staticky TV just switched on in another room.

Lilly spoke up before her mom could say anything.

“Sure.” Then her face went red. “I mean, I haven’t been to that bowling alley yet. I wouldn’t mind checking it out, see if it has any retro arcade games or something.”

“Great, could you give them some money, Janet?” Aunt Beth raised a poorly drawn eyebrow.

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Janet pulled twenty dollars from her purse. “Just come back in one hour. No longer.”

“Of course,” said Lilly, snatching the bill.

*     *     *
Cory tried to make small talk as they crossed the road. He told her a bit about the bowling alley and the games they had, pretending he’d been there more than once. Their eyes would make contact every now and then, just for a moment, before they both looked away.

Cory pushed open the glass door of the alley, releasing a kaleidoscope of light and noise and smells. Flickering rays of neon. The crack of balls hitting the pins. The greasy scent of hotdogs and French fries.

“What do you want to do?” Cory asked.

“I dunno.” She pushed her hair behind her ear as she looked around. “Hey, over there.”

Lilly pointed to a couple of old video games stuffed in the corner next to a claw machine.

“Let’s check it out.” She gave his hoodie a playful tug and walked over. Cory followed.

They cashed in ten of the twenty for change and took turns playing Frogger and PacMan. Once they ran out of coins, they sat at a table at the far end of the alley with a couple of Cokes.

Without the buzz of 1980s electronics distracting him, Cory began to dwell again on just how nervous he was. They stared awkwardly at each other for a bit and exchanged more small talk about the bowling alley. Seems like a cool place. Oh yeah, it is.

Then during a particularly long pause in the not-quite-conversation, Lilly shrugged off her jacket.

Cory tried hard not to stare at the thick, bulging scars that covered both her arms. They looked shiny and pink, even beneath the dull tungsten lights.

“From the car crash,” she said. “Same one that killed my stepdad.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lilly gave a sad little smile.

Seeing her vulnerability, her weakness, made him a little less self-conscious.

“It doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” He immediately felt his face turn hot.

“Thanks.” She grinned and looked down at the chipped tabletop. “So, what will happen when your aunt channels him? Like, will I be speaking right to Dennis or. ...”

Cory leaned back in his hard plastic seat. He tried to make his back as straight as possible, so he didn’t slouch and look weak. Chin up. Confident smile. Be the expert.

“Yeah, essentially. It’s sort of like making a phone call, in a way.”

“Will he be able to see me? Will he know I’m there?”

“Not unless you say something. The dead can’t see us, but they can hear us.”

Lilly smiled at that. “Okay, because I don’t want to actually talk to Dennis. My mom wants to say goodbye, but ...” She turned her head sideways, as if re-assessing her thought. “She doesn’t know what kind of relationship we had. And to be honest, the only reason I even considered being there was out of guilt.”

Cory nodded. He wanted to ask what she felt guilty about, but thought it might be overstepping his bounds. So he kept playing the expert instead.

“One thing to keep in mind: A lot of people think they’re connecting with the same living person during a seance, but it doesn’t really work that way. We only get a flicker of them, a piece of who they were. Does that make sense?”

Lilly smiled. “It does, I think. And it makes me feel better. I only want to be there for my mom, anyway. To support her—not him. But it sounds like I’m making the right decision, being there.”

Cory nodded and smiled too. “It sounds like you are.”

“What about you, Mr. Cory, the medium-in-training? What’s it like living with a woman who can speak to the dead?” Her tone changed. Light and warm and fun again.

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay? She seems ... nice.”

They both laughed.

“You’re a terrible liar, Lilly.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m sure she’s different when not around customers.”

Cory figured he’d already started the afternoon off by saying something stupid, so he might as well continue the trend.

“Honestly, my aunt’s a drunk. Quite a few mediums are alcoholics, actually. Comes with the trade, I guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lilly leaned in. “What do you mean it comes with the trade?”

“Well, speaking to dead people is a very emotional thing. To channel them, you have to let them in.” For the first time, Cory made eye contact with Lilly for more than a few seconds. “And they leave a bit of themselves inside you when it’s over. My aunt describes it like having a splinter so deep that you can never get it out. So some mediums drink or do drugs so they can’t feel it anymore.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah. And in the case of my aunt, she drinks a lot.”

“And you still want to be a medium, despite that ... problem?”

Cory realized he had inadvertently implied that being a drunk would be his destiny. “It doesn’t happen like that with every medium. The strong ones find other ways to deal with the side-effects, like meditation. I’ll never be like her, that’s for sure.”

“Well, you seem plenty strong to me.” Lilly slid her hand across the table and into Cory’s. He wrapped his fingers around hers on instinct. Her skin was warm and smooth and caused a fluttering in his stomach.

Someone from the lanes below screamed: Strike! They both looked over at a guy in a flannel jacket doing some kind of a gorilla dance in celebration. Lilly giggled.

“Do you bowl?” she asked.

“Me? Nah, I’m terrible.”

“Oh c’mon, you live across the street from a bowling alley and you can’t bowl? I don’t buy it.” She tightened her grip on Cory’s hand and pulled him up from the table.

With a bashful grin, he let her drag him toward the service desk. But he stood firm when the whispering got louder again.

Not just louder—more intense, almost frantic. Like holding a box of angry wasps to your ear.

Lilly eyed him with a frown.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Cory knew he didn’t sound convincing. “I think it’s just, um ...”

His phone came alive. It was a text from his aunt.

Ur late. Head back.

“Shit, it’s my aunt. We better get going.”

Lilly nodded.

As Cory opened the door to leave, he put his hand on the small of her back. It felt painfully awkward and exhilarating at the same time.

Outside, Lilly hesitated before crossing the street to Cory’s house.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She smiled. “You’ll be there, though, right?”

“The entire time.” Cory smiled back and took Lilly’s hand in his.

“Hey, after this is over, we should hang out,” said Lilly. “You still owe me a game of bowling.”

“Yeah, of course. I’d like that.”

“Cool. Lemme text you my number.”

She did. And they walked across the road.

*     *     *
Back inside, the adults looked pissed.

“What took so long? I told you just an hour.” Aunt Beth’s voice had its usual late-afternoon slur to it. Like her audio was being played a notch too slow.

“We were, uh—.” Cory stumbled, which seemed to be becoming a habit.

“Nevermind. Sit down. Both of you.”

They did as asked. Janet glared at Cory.

“Well, now that we’re all settled, I should let the young ones in on what we decided,” said Aunt Beth.

The hairs on the back of Cory’s neck stood up. And the whispering voices got louder, as if a storm were building inside his head.

“You’ll be handling this one, Cory. I think you’re ready.”

His stomach dropped. He had never conducted a seance before and now was certainly not the right time to start. Especially not with Lilly's stepfather.

“Um, Aunt Beth, can I speak to you in the kitchen please?”

“After,” his aunt replied. “You’ve kept everyone waiting far too long already. You know what to do. And I explained to Janet how it can last longer if it’s a ... man-to-man connection.” She winked at him.

Cory looked over at Lilly, who offered a brief you-can-do-it nod. Perhaps she liked the idea of him channeling her stepdad instead of his aunt, as if he could steer things her way somehow.

Cory slowly stood up from his seat and changed spots with his aunt. He straightened his back in the chair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The voices were almost deafening, but Cory pushed them out of his mind.

“Okay, I’m set,” said Cory. “Do we have something that the subject owned?”

Subject. Such a perfectly inhuman word to use. A sign to Lilly, he hoped, that he was empathizing with her.

“Well, yes. Right here, remember?” Janet pointed at the wallet laying on the table.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Cory picked it up, rubbing the oily smooth leather between his fingers. He felt him on it. Hot and festering, like stagnant heat trapped in a long-abandoned room.

Cory closed his eyes again.

Took a few deep breaths.

Then let his mind drift away. Into the ether.

The sense of slow-falling into darkness.

Of being weightless.

And finally, feeling that someone else was with him.

The man formed in Cory’s mind like gases forming into a solid. The musty stench of his Old Spice cologne. The roughness of his hands. Lilly’s stepfather—Dennis—took on intimate familiarity.

A surge of confidence built inside Cory, an alpha-like shot of courage. And behind it all, a smoldering rage.

Cory could only see darkness. But he felt his eyes open and his face curl into a smile. It wasn’t his own smile though, it was Dennis’s. A slanted, crooked smirk.

“Is someone out there?” Cory’s voice fell away. Replaced by the deep, raspy tone of a middle-aged man.

“It’s me, Janet.” Her words echoed in the void. “Is that really you, Dennis?”

“Janet? Yes, I’m here.”

“Oh my God. Lilly, it’s him! It’s Dennis! Look at his eyes. It’s really him!”

Cory felt a pang of excitement stir inside Dennis. A sick, dark feeling of lust and anger.

“Lilly? Are you out there, too?”

The scenes came in quick flashes, as if torn from Dennis’s memory.

Lilly screaming ‘get out’ as she clutched a bath towel to her chest. Rough hands on smooth skin. The sting of a slap. Cory tried to push the images out of his head, but they lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

What the fuck did you do?

Dennis didn’t react.

“Lilly, say hello to Dennis.” Janet’s voice tumbled through the darkness.

Cory sensed a shift in the energy. Dennis was trying to gain more control, to force himself deeper inside. Cory mustered all his willpower and tried to propel him back into the ether, but it was like trying to win a shoving match with a pickup truck.

“Yes, Lilly, say hello.” Dennis forced Cory’s body to stand as he said this.

Ana yelled, “Reign the kid in! Now, Beth!”

More flashes of memory.

Dennis driving, the windshield blurry with rain. Yelling. Lilly yelling back, vowing to tell her mom what had happened.

Panic and rage. Then pain, as her fist cracked against his jaw.

The car fishtailed. Spun sideways. Then darkness.

“Where are you, Lilly?” Dennis said, his voice louder. “I know you’re here. I want to finish what we started.”

The smallest of cries slipped from her lips. Barely audible to the living, but it pinged through the void like a penny hitting a tin can. Dennis zeroed in on it instantly.

Cory felt his body lunge forward. His hand gripped Lilly’s thin wrist, and his forehead pressed hard against her cheek.

“Miss me, you bitch?”

The room erupted into screams and shouting.

Fingernails tore into Cory’s face and pushed against his head. Powerful hands closed around his shoulders, pulling him backward.

And then everything went black.

*     *     *
Cory woke up in his bedroom with a piercing headache. Tiny cuts from Lilly’s fingernails burned on his cheeks.

Ana sat in a nearby chair, reading a paperback. It looked out of place in her large hands.

“Good, you’re up. Had quite a scare for a bit there.”

“Ughhh,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “How long have I been out?”

“An hour or so. But you seem to have survived. Sorry I had to get rough with you, but I didn’t really have a choice.”

Cory stared up at the ceiling and thought about Lilly. The sound of her screams.

His mind drifted back to Dennis. His smell. The gravelly notes in his voice. The wiry texture of his beard. It was less like he was thinking about him and more like Dennis was still stuck in his brain, his essence wedged deep into Cory’s subconscious.

Like a deep splinter.

Ana glanced down the hallway, then leaned in close. “Listen kid, I’m going to level with ya: you shouldn’t have been the one to channel that guy. We knew what he’d be like, but your aunt insisted.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“You should ask her.” Ana lowered her voice. “But I just want you to know that if you do decide to get into this business for real, we should talk. The bosses know that young mediums like you are the future.”

Cory wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he just nodded. “Lilly, is she all right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Just shaken by everything that happened.” Ana stood and walked to the door. “You should keep your distance from her, though. Messing around with clients never works out.”

After Ana left the room, Cory grabbed his phone. No messages.

He texted Lilly: I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

He stared at the screen for a few minutes, hoping for a quick response. When none came, he put the phone down and went back to sleep.

Cory woke the next day at almost noon, still groggy from what he guessed was a concussion. The voices were loud again. But this time, they sounded less like white noise and more like the ambiance of a crowded food court. A bit clearer, but still impossible to figure out exactly what any of them was saying.

Cory pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. Must have something to do with the concussion. He checked his phone again. Nothing. Then he went into the kitchen.

His aunt was in her favorite spot: perched over the patio railing with a glass of wine and a cigarette. She spotted Cory and came inside.

“How are you? That was quite an incident yesterday.”

“I’m good,” said Cory, looking down at his phone. “My head hurts a little, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“Good.” She pulled a bottle of red wine out of the cabinet and filled her glass. “But I don’t mean just your noggin. How are you feeling about things? About everything?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. Cory figured she was trying to get into his head, maybe determine whether he would stay committed to life as a medium.

“I dunno.” He met his aunt’s gaze. “I wish I could have controlled him.”

“You’ll get better at it.” She downed her glass of wine and refilled it.

The chattering in Cory’s head got louder. More frantic. “Yeah, I guess so. And maybe next time you won’t set me up with a nutcase like that.”

Her face went blank. And she studied him for a few seconds before responding.

“Fucking Ana talked to you, didn’t she?”

Cory nodded.

“You can’t trust that bitch. The people she works for exist just to exploit us. To squeeze out as much money as possible and leave us the crumbs.” She took a long gulp of wine.

“I thought they existed because mediums can’t run their own shit.” Cory’s pulse raced. He had never spoken harshly to his aunt like that before. “And on top of that, they throw their own nephews under the bus, too.”

“Hey, I did that for your own good. Starting you off with some dead toddler or old lady ain’t gonna teach you shit. I had an opportunity to bust your cherry the right way, and I took it. Now, it’s over. And now you’ll be able to handle the usual stuff no problem.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” said Cory.

“I’m sorry about what happened with that girl. I know you liked her. But now you know why you can’t be with clients like that. We gotta keep it all professional.”

Cory let out a quick snort of laughter. “Professional. Sure.”

“Hey, listen.” She grabbed Cory’s hand. Her skin felt unnaturally cold. “If you really want to be a true medium, to achieve your full potential, you’re gonna have to grow up a little faster.”

Aunt Beth took a wine glass from the cupboard, filled it, and slid it in front of Cory. She cupped her hand beneath his chin and looked him in the eye. “It helps,” she said. “With everything, not just the one you channeled. All of them.”

Cory shook his head. “No way. Not happening.”

Aunt Beth shrugged. “Suit yourself. But they won’t stay quiet and calm like they were before. They’ll get a little louder and clearer every time, until they’re all you ever think about. You’ll see.”

Then she walked to her bedroom.

Cory looked down at the glass. The cacophony of voices rose up as if to punctuate his aunt’s final remark. Like they had been listening all along.

“Hell no.” He picked up the wine and carried it to the sink. His phone vibrated before he got there.

Cory set the glass down and snatched his cell off the kitchen counter. It was a text message, but not from Lilly.

It came from a number he had never seen before.

Hey freakshow. Lilly wants nothing to do with u. Dont text her again

Cory put down the phone. His body felt heavy, as if concrete were drying in his chest. And the entire world seemed a shade darker.

From somewhere deep inside him, he heard laughter. Deep, gravelly. Smug.

Dennis’s laughter.

Then the voices came rushing to the surface. And for the first time, he could actually make out what a few of them were saying.

Sorry, you must feel awful.

Stop being a pussy. It’s just one girl.

Plenty of fish, right?

Wow, you really fucked up kid.

Their comments banged around in his head like a can full of marbles. Different people. Different emotions. Each one shouting out everything from condolences to vulgar insults.

Cory ran his fingers through his hair. He looked back over at the glass of wine and thought about the lazy don’t-give-a-shit smile his aunt always wore. And how she never seemed to be sad or upset about anything.

He picked up the glass and inhaled its grape-chemical scent. Then something Lilly had told him crept into his head: You seem plenty strong to me.

Cory dumped the wine into the sink. But as he stared down at the splatter of red droplets, he wondered just how strong he really was.