Free Darkness Descends (The Silver Legacy Book 1) by Alex Westmore

hard to break free of them.”
    “Well, I’m proud of you, Butch.”
    Denny laughed harder, glad to be out and about with Victor.
    “Now, Mama is going to size your story up, work it all out and then tell you what she thinks. You just gotta be silent. Don’t go all talk show host on her or she shuts up like the privorbial clam.”
    Denny grinned at his mispronunciation. “Got it.”
    “And don’t look in her eyes unless she tells you to. Makes her nervous when people try to read her. She don’t like people in her head.”
    Denny remembered that from the first time she’d met Ophelia. “Okay.”
    “And answer her just like she asks. No more, no less.”
    “Victor, why are you so nervous?”
    “’Cause she don’t like surprises, and since she don’t have a phone, this is a surprise.”
    When Denny finally pulled into the driveway of a house no bigger than a garage, she looked over at Victor. “Thank you for this.”
    He nodded. “Remember what I said.” He led Denny to the front door with its torn screen door falling off the hinges. Several coats of paint peeled off the windowsills like rotting lizard scales.
    When Ophelia opened the door, she lowered her blacker-than-black face and peered into Denny’s eyes.
    “I knew it’d be you. I seen it yesterday.”
    “Mama, you remember––”
    “‘Course I ’member her, Victor. I’s old, not stupid. Come on in ’fore them flies do.”
    Denny and Victor entered a small family room that probably hadn’t changed since the fifties. The blue curtains had been there the first time she’d come here, nearly ten years ago. One of the loveseats was ragged and torn. The loveseat facing it was better for wear and had blue throw pillows scattered across it.
    Even though the room was not well lit, Denny could see layers of dust on the bases of the floor lamps and across the brick hearth. A small yet cozy room.
    Denny sat on the old loveseat and Ophelia and Victor sat on the other one. Ophelia and Victor were carbon copies in different genders. Wide noses, large eyes, ample forehead—it was easy to see that the apple hadn’t fallen far.
    “What did you mean––” Denny started.
    Victor cleared his throat and glared at her.
    Denny caught the look and shut her mouth.
    Ophelia’s flowing purple pantsuit continued moving even after she stopped. “I am sho’ my son explained the ground rules. Normally, I don’t see unscheduled visitors, but seein’ how you always been supportive of my incredibly gay son, I’ll make an exception.”
    “Thank you.”
    Ophelia spoke to Victor without looking at him. “Lemonade, three ice cubes, rim with sugar.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Victor shot out of the room to the small kitchen.
    After Victor left, Ophelia zeroed in on Denny. “There’s lotsa psychic energy ’round you, girl. Lots.”
    Denny nodded. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.”
    Ophelia held up her hand. “Not your garden variety psychic energy, Golden. This goes beyond your crazy house ghost. This is somethin’––”
    Denny leaned forward. “She’s not crazy.” The words flew from Denny’s mouth before she could stop them.
    Ophelia lifted an eyebrow, her gaze intense. “She crazy ’cause she don’t know when to leave. Nevertheless, this energy is sho’ strong and––” She paused and studied Denny as one might a piece of lint. “You ain’t here ’causa the ghost, is you?” She tilted her head from side to side. “No, I’d say not. However, it is somethin’ of great magnitude in your world. Somethin’ supernatural. Somethin’ beyond your limited vision. What can Ophelia do for you?”
    Denny explained the car accident that took her father’s life, caused her mother’s catatonia, and what all she was hoping to accomplish with this visit. When she finished, Ophelia waved for Victor to bring the lemonades in.
    “What you askin’ is very, very dangerous and so so tricky. Only a real skilled medium can pull this off without casualties.” She