Christmas eve and spirits past hang heavy. As Kari looked into her glass, it occurred to her this was not her favorite holiday. Old clients communing in their own midnight mass above her weathered couch. But Kari didn’t like to think of herself as a Priestess, powerful and holy. She wasn’t. She was a human helping other humans’ transition to the next phase, whatever it might be. That is all. The images always seemed to mock her loneliness and vulnerability. And really, why couldn't they do that at All Saints. It was what the holiday was for she thought, gulping down the ruby dregs. She was so stoned she couldn’t make sense of the images on the TV. A mummified skeletor speaking demanded attention. The audio didn’t match the video exactly, l ike one of those poorly dubbed art movies. The addled brain had some difficulty processing the effect. A disembodied voice stated her weight would disappear if she would just ...