“MOM, WHAT’S WRONG?”
OM, WHAT’S WRONG?”“Don’t you smell food burning?” Panicked, Tessa jumped from the parlor sofa and rushed toward the kitchen. Minutes later, she returned with a grin crinkling her eyes and burnt food scenting her clothes, although nothing had cooked in the oven that evening. “Your ancestors are at it again,” she’d said, much calmer, joining Dad on the settee.
Sky had no clue what her mom’s comments meant years ago, but not anymore. The mysterious smells, subtle sounds, images, and auras, strange events Mom and Dad experienced, were real. And she’d just faced every frightful sensation. She’d never doubted them, though, never experiencing every sensory manifestation, only preternatural chatter.
Sky recalls occasional guests complimenting the sweet smell of apple and st
