Zeke stands in the middle of the open salt circle. I kneel near the gap with a handful of salt in one hand and a pouch with more in another, ready to dump it all in as soon as the ghost gets inside.
If he attacks at all, of course. I hope he won't. He looked so peaceful and nice when we last met…
Zeke, by now, had familiarized himself with the machinery. His tentacles are all over the room, ready to turn a dozen people's worth of valves and levers.
"Ready?" he asks me.
I nod. "Yes. Do it."
A shiver of anticipation runs through me. Not for the possible ghost encounter, but for the upcoming shift in the timeline. I can feel it approaching as soon as Zeke twists the first lever.
It's like weather. The temporal wind blows, bringing smells of a different past. Present. Future. Soon, it will become a hurricane, but we will be in its eye.
