It was curious, Isaac considered, that he had ever come across the pendant hanging around his neck in the first place.
Aunt Sherry was a good woman at heart. Beneath her bitterness and penchant for scamming and unstoppable alcoholism, there was a softer side, one that always had displayed itself for her nephew. He had no shortage of fond memories of her, showing off her tarot cards and her crystal ball with him perched on her knee as a child, running his fingers over the silken fabric of her swishing skirts. There was nowhere quite like her parlour. The smell of incense hung heavy, clung to every surface and object - light only trickled in through gaps in the heavy drapes or danced at the tip of lit candles. Once upon a time, he may have considered it magical.
Isaac had grown up quickly. Dealt with things that he didn't believe were possible. Through that, he was quick to discover that Aunt Sherry was not all that she seemed.
The supposed divination and contacting of spirits to comfort mourning families was a smokescreen. All a trick, enabled by simple research and slight of hand. A smoke machine, a hidden knocker, a remotely activated fan to blow that chilly breeze at the right second. Never had she seen or spoken to a ghost, and neither did she believe it was even possible. The day he had been told this, she had laughed and shaken her head, her enormous dangling earrings clinking together with an equally raucous sound.
"If I can make money off of people who are stupid enough to believe fairytales, then so be it."
They're not fairytales, he longed to yell after her. He wished he could make her see what he could - wished he could tell her about the spirit of his grandmother, her mother, leering over her shoulder and staring with fury and disdain. Ached to convey how tangible that disappointment was... and yet, he knew there was nothing that could make her believe. No remedy to her assumptions. The only person he hoped would have understood was perhaps the least likely to hear him out.
As he tugged his shirt off, the cool lapis bumped against his collarbone, and he caught a glimpse of the carving in the mirror. A lion, he believed - the craftsmanship was excellent, the visage truly awe inspiring. If he tried hard enough, he thought he might hear it roar. Aunt Sherry had been displaying it in her hallway, another anonymous trinket supposed to help her appear more authentic.
"Paid a fortune for it, but as you might expect, it does nothing," She had proclaimed. "Take it if you want it. Sell it. Get yourself something nice with the money."
Isaac hadn't been able to bring himself to rid himself of it. Like a good luck charm, he had carried it everywhere since he had acquired it. Its presence consoled him in a way he couldn't quite describe. Reflecting upon it had him frozen in front of the open shower door, raising a hand to feel the weight of the stone in his palm. It was a comfort.
Even a comfort couldn't stop the familiar tingling sparks shooting down his spine, however.
Something was coming. For god's sake, why did it have to be when he wanted ten minutes to himself for a god damn shower? Isaac's chest grew tighter and tighter as the sensations strengthened, drawing his energy from him in steady pulls. The figure materialising in front of him had a grin before it had a face.
"Mind if I take you for a ride? Aaawesome," Its voice was grainy, grating in a way that made him shudder. His teeth ground together. "Hey, pretty necklace. I might keep it."
Fuck, this stuff sucked.