Chapter 4: Hollywood Spirits Exposed

Truth is, there are a lot of people like Savannah working behind the scenes in the entertainment world. They’re usually billed as consultants or producers, picking lucky dates for movie shoots, matching actors’ star signs, and sometimes even casting hexes on rivals. Out front, they talk about “energy work” and spiritual wellness—think crystal parties in Malibu or burning sage in a Hollywood office. But behind the curtain, they’re practicing old-school American folk mediumship—hosting spirits for readings and rituals.

They throw wild parties in the Hills, talk about “manifesting abundance” on podcasts, and drop hints about celebrity wellness trends—like when that A-lister swore by her shamanic retreat before an Oscar campaign. Online, people think mediums are all-powerful, but the reality is messier. The spirits they host are a mixed bag—some are helpful, others just want more offerings, some are tricksters who love to show off. They can handle small stuff, but when things get real, even spirits can screw up—or get taken down.

Savannah’s spirit has been captured. Even with her heavy makeup, I can see the bluish cast on her forehead and the way her hands sometimes shake—classic signs of a detained spirit.

Busted, Savannah snaps. She lunges across the table, clapping her hand over my mouth. For a spirit host, losing your spirit is a career-killer—like a Jedi losing their lightsaber or a pro gamer showing up with a busted controller. If word gets out, she’s done in this town.

I’m caught off guard, pinned by Savannah’s grip—her arms feel like white pythons, squeezing tight, her face wild. “Don’t you dare say another word!”

I struggle, but she just squeezes harder, nearly cutting off my air. “You must be hosting a snake spirit—trying to strangle me!”

Suddenly realizing how out of control she is, Savannah lets go, straightens her dress and hair, looking lost and nothing like the confident woman from earlier.

After a long sigh, she whispers, “Sorry. This is way more complicated than you know.”

Her voice is thin, barely more than a breath, the kind of apology that carries a world of secrets.