“Naiche had been an accountant, and like my mom, I’d assumed that she’d needed something fun in her life when her everyday existence had been essentially bland. And like my mother, she’d always claimed to see things — see dolls move, see ghosts in mirrors, see things appear in the sky that were supposedly omens — have prophetic dreams. I’d seen nothing.”

Olivia Becente, whose psychic powers manifest upon the suicide of her sister, Naiche, has left her academic career to work as a paranormal investigator in Denver. Our heroine is a woman dispossessed: Indigenous yet lacking recognition by any registered tribe, distant from her family after the loss of her sister, and severed from her previous professional ambitions. She also seems disconnected from her prior sense of herself; she had a plan for her future, and summoning spirits was not part of it.

Still, Olivia gamely sets out whenever a call comes in. She’s surprisingly in demand — who knew there were so many gothic buildings in Denver? — which is an indication of the frequency of paranormal phenomena in the world author Erika T. Wurth has created. When a series of cases leads her back to what happened during the real-life 1864 Sand Creek Massacre, Olivia begins to suspect the culprit is an ominous séance group, the Sacred 36, and the sinister Stillwell family.

Meanwhile, the same cult might be connected to the suicides of Naiche and a string of other women whose bodies, over the years, all turn up on the same date in the same room of the same Brown Palace hotel. When it appears that the last remaining member of Olivia’s family, her mother, may be the next victim, the supernatural riddle comes to a boil.

Wurth — who is herself of Apache/Chickasaw/Cherokee descent — covers a lot of ground in The Haunting of Room 904. The magic system is wide-ranging; everything from Hebrew mysticism to Ouija boards to multiple Native American tribal rituals comes into play when the otherworldly is forever knocking at your door. A real strength of the book is the diverse ensemble cast comprised of Olivia’s friends and lovers, which makes this world intimate and appealing. We’ve got her past love Sasha, a “rebel rabbi”; her loyal best friend and roommate, the two-spirit Alejandro; and Sara and Victoria, whose Navajo-Apache rivalry (and romantic past) is an inside joke.

There’s also a satisfying series of threats here, including from a stalker ex, an untrustworthy love interest, and a racist reporter. Wurth does a good job sustaining an eerie, suspenseful atmosphere, although I — something of a weenie when it comes to spooky stuff — wouldn’t call it scary. It’s hard for metaphysical scenes to have the same impact on the page that they would on the screen; battling through a smoky spirit world can land a little flat on paper.

Nonetheless, the author keeps us guessing, offering multiple plausible theories that could implicate those closest to Olivia in the mysterious deaths and other strange happenings. I particularly enjoyed the early-chapter intros describing the Craigslist items Olivia would soon be called to investigate.

The story bounces around a bit in tone, sometimes giving us a chill “Ghostbusters” vibe, with a decidedly modern group of wiseacres tackling spirits in a workmanlike manner, and other times broaching serious topics like suicide, intimate-partner violence, and, of course, the historical massacre that looms over everything. As readers, we can’t always tell how much fun we’re supposed to be having.

When I started the book, I had a vague sense that I’d seen a movie with the same premise (it was “Constantine,” but there are plenty of other examples). But Wurth brings fresh energy to the horror genre, making The Haunting of Room 904 a satisfying escape for anyone whose real life feels a little bland.

Eliza Nellums is the author of the novels All That’s Bright and Gone and The Bone Cay.