And then I unwind her.

One strand for my mother.

One for my father.

One for me.

I unravel the rage until it courses through my veins like fuel in an engine. I let it become a part of me, but not all of me. Hot, scorching pain under my skin, under my tongue, under my nails. I let it spread through me—until there is no more “Before” and no more “After.”

I am her and she is me.

“I’ve got the thread,” Mariah says excitedly. “I’m following it.”

I feel warmth pulling at my fingers, like the tide of the ocean is inside me and it’s flowing out to Mariah.

“I hear someone,” Mariah whispers. “A woman.”

I take a deep breath and focus on the thread. Please, please. Please help me.

“She’s powerful. She has a lot to say,” Mariah says, her voice strained. “No, a lot to do. Oh wow, oh wow—” She stops speaking abruptly, and her fingers curl into claws around mine, squeezing the bones of my pinkie and forefinger. I open my eyes to see hers rolled back in her head, her rapid breathing.

“Mariah?” Patricia leans over, but does not break our connection. “Mariah?”

I start to call her name too, when the ocean comes rushing back through my hand so quickly that it sears up my wrist and forearms and swirls in a hot whirlpool in my chest. I cry out, but I can’t let go.

A low voice burns into my ears and onto the back of my eyelids. White curls, bronze skin, barely any wrinkles, my mother’s eyes and my own. She cracks a wry grin.

‘Took you long enough.’

It’s a strange sensation, having a whole other person inside your skin. It feels like I’m a human-shaped glass fish tank, and every step makes the water of my grandmother slosh up my sides, almost tipping over the edge.

Patricia holds on to my elbow. “Bree? Talk to us.”

“I’m…” I blink several times, in what feels like slow motion. “I’m okay. Except I feel drunk.”

‘And how do you know what being drunk is like?’ Grandmother says, jabbing at my ribs somehow.

“Ow,” I say, and grab my side. “Is it supposed to feel like this?”

Mariah shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. Possession is really rare. It’s never happened to me, personally, but my uncle Kwame gets possessed all the time. Family spirits take his body for a spin, or sometimes they sit inside him and the two of them just talk and fellowship awhile until the ancestor leaves.”

“Not every Medium gets possessed?” I cry, panic rising slightly.

“Nope. Mediumcraft is a branch of root with its own sub-branches. All different because ancestors themselves are different.” Mariah peers up into my eyes. “Wowwwww. I can definitely see your grandmother in there.” She stands back and raises her hand for a high five. “Welcome to Club Medium!”