Another meal out back, another new guest to dinner, and what should have been another detached evening for Sanders.
They ate early so they could soon turn their attention to the ghost problem. The sun was still visible over peaks which stretched into a cloudless sky. Birds sang nearby. From somewhere off in the slopes an ibex called in its chirping, also bird-like voice. A marmot whistled and another replied.
Sue told Amanda about her plans for a bonfire. Amanda complimented the Italian dinner of crispy gnocchi in pesto and a peppered steak salad. Sanders offered wine and asked after their friend who was staying in the city, assured that this was by choice and he may come by later.
Then Sanders asked more, about Amanda’s work—she was a professional mixed martial artist, teaching regular classes and workshops—and did she also talk to ghosts. And answered her questions about his employer; what had led him and Tom to moving out here last spring.
The more he talked, the more he was irritated about it. He should have been able to detach. But he couldn’t. Amanda and Sue talked together as well, yet they were unfortunately too polite to pretend to be alone and Sanders was distinctly aware of his own role as host all of a sudden. Because, in all this chirping and chatting Garden of Eden, the only one quiet was Tom.
Even by the time Francesca brought out locally sourced and homemade elderberry gelato with coffee, Tom had uttered only a handful of syllables. Damn and blast him.
“I never asked you how you fared on the train?” Amanda grinned at Sue after accepting a gelato dish.
“You know I don’t travel with more than I can carry.” Sue was dignified. “I had everything under control. How could I have managed here without my harp and candles?”
“I can’t believe you got them here.” Amanda laughed. “But I should know by now never to underestimate you. I’m sure you were a picture of organisation and composure through Paris Gare de Lyon.”
“Of course I was. And out of Geneva. Pass the cream, Manda. You should have seen me. I wouldn’t have embarrassed you. All in one go, I never even held up the line. Thank you.” Accepting the delicate china pitcher meant to accompany the coffee.
“Because you were thoughtful enough to wait until last to get off the train so you didn’t block anyone else with the dozen bundles around you?”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Sue did not have any coffee of her own, but trickled the cream over her gelato after eating off the fruit garnish. The chilled cream froze to the surface on contact, forming a crisp shell around her dessert. “Anyway, I didn’t have to go far, perfectly graceful and balanced or not. A knight in shining armour met me at the barrier and took most of my necessities to the car.” She passed the little pitcher to Tom, smiling at him, inviting him in.
Tom hardly gave her a, “Thanks.”
Sanders wanted to kick him.
Amanda arched an eyebrow and Sanders suspected she was unimpressed with references to male gallantry in assisting a woman who was, by implication, less capable than himself.
“Tom’s been wonderful help with this whole thing, in fact. They both have.” Sue remained just as cheerful, ignoring both Tom’s affect and Amanda’s dubiety. “We can have another music lesson tonight. I really think they’ll be ready to come out now.”
“What did Hansen say?” Amanda asked. “Was that any help?”
Sue and, to a lesser extent, Sanders, told her more about what had happened since Sue arrived and what little they had figured out so far.
Tom remained silent.
By the end of the meal, Amanda again thanked them and praised the food, but Sue was pulling her away, saying she wanted Amanda to see the stream coming down from the mountains and the crossbedded granite formation above it before the sun set. Amanda excused them, following and smiling as Sue elaborated—clearly more enjoying seeing Sue after the absence than fascinated by the prospect of crossbedded granite.
Francesca had already cleared dessert dishes and Sanders and Tom were left with mostly empty cups. Sanders waited until Sue and Amanda were well up the trail to the stream, moving through the mountain’s shadow, before he rounded on Tom.
Tom was gone. Sanders looked quickly to the house just as Tom pulled open the side door. He vanished inside and Sanders remained for some minutes, not so much angry as mixed up with unaccustomed confusion and frustration.
* * *
Tom hoped he might be able to sit out the evening after the way Sue had vanished into the sunset with her girlfriend, but no. They requested him back downstairs later, Sue calling to him in the hallway to remind him that she’d said he and Sanders needed to be present.
So he sat in an armchair at 10:00 p.m. while Sanders took another. Sue and Amanda sat on the floor before the house altar and small fire that Sue had burning in the hearth. London rolled on her back on the rug beside them as if they were her best friends. Every time she started to stand, Amanda rubbed her head in that special cheek/ear combination, leading to her whole kitten skull being tucked into Amanda’s palm until she toppled over on the rug for more rolling and kneading the air.
Sue had already tried getting Tom to take her harp. When he declined, she’d given it to Amanda, herself with the bansuri, a six-holed transverse flute, although she wasn’t playing. She was telling them about the significance of the chalice filled with their own mountain spring water, the knife, stones, colors of candles, and other things she used in response to Sanders asking her about the water. Maybe if Sanders and London showed a little less interest, they all would have been allowed to go to bed.
Yes, she had said earlier that they needed to be here, but hadn’t that changed? Sue had said this was important for all of them, then had proceeded to keep herself awfully busy all day.
Now she was talking about willow trees: how this particular altar wood came from a female willow, though most tree species distributed both male and female pollen. Something else that sounded like information Tom might have once needed to research for his writing.
London pulled herself up to her round paws. Amanda offered her a cupped hand. London plowed her head into it and collapsed in a matter of seconds. Her eyes were shut and she drooled down her own cheeks as she purred.
Sue had just started to play her bansuri, nudging Amanda’s knee with her bare foot to prompt Amanda with the reverie harp, but both were laughing at London and Sue didn’t get beyond three notes on the flute.
Tom ached to ask how long this was going to take.
He looked away from the cat to the hearth, let out a breath, and set his mind on politely waiting it out. They hadn’t been up that late last night. He could do another one with enough grace not to complain. He’d just told Sue twelve hours earlier that he had faith in her work. Of course he did. That hadn’t changed. He just ... had other things to be doing tonight than watching this ... stuff.
“Stop it,” Sue said to Amanda, still laughing. “You’re inhibiting progress.”
“I’m not doing anything.” Amanda watched as London pulled herself upright, saw the cupped hand just waiting for a cat head, and repeated the breakdown. “It’s like one of those old toy animals standing on a little platform with strings in the joints. Push on the bottom of the platform and the strings loosen and the whole thing falls down.”
“I can’t play both instruments at once. Tom, why don’t you take the harp?”
“Because I don’t know how to play it.” Tom went on watching the tiny fire she’d built. It was way too warm for a fire, but Sanders had invited her to start one if she wished.
“Don’t get caught up in details,” Sue said. “You’ll be fine. Or do you want the flute?”
“I’ve never played a flute either.”
“Sanders?”
“No, thank you.”
“Would you like to sing?” Sue asked.
“No.” Tom and Sanders spoke in unison.
“You sing,” Amanda said to Sue. “You may be the only one here qualified for that either.”
“Bansuri and singing at the same time ... hmm...”
“I’ve always said you are incredibly talented.” Amanda grinned at her.
“That might be more miracle than talented.” Sue reached to grab London as she stood up once more. Holding the cat under the forearms, she leaned way back and to the right to pass her to Sanders with a, “Thank you.”
Sanders stood up to hand the cat to Tom. Tom pulled her against his chest as if she’d just been plucked from danger.
Amanda, free of feline intervention, had both hands to play. Sue lifted the bansuri to her lips.
It was weird how the instruments worked together. They shouldn’t have. They didn’t make sense. Yet they worked. And they were even more beautiful than Sue’s harp last night.
Tom forgot about the late hour and being resentful and not making progress. He sat still, stroking London, feeling vibrations of the music like being submerged in tangible sound waves, as if his skin was hearing.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been listening when he became aware, from a great distance, of London’s four sets of strong, youthful claws gouged into his thigh. The little animal was crouched, rigid as the floor below his foot. Her fur stood on end.
Tom shook himself and looked down, tried to follow her gaze, then tried to catch Sue’s eye. Hers were not even open so he tried Sanders instead. Sanders was already watching London. He looked around them and back to Tom.
Very slowly, London stood up in Tom’s lap. Her back arched, the silky fur on end from her ears to her puffed-out tail.
Only when the slow, whiny growl emerged from the tiny form did the music falter. Sue looked around, lowering the flute from her lips. Amanda glanced at her, then followed her gaze to London, fingers relaxing on the strings.
In the silence, the next growl from the cat was startling.
The humans looked to the spot London watched. Not the altar. Not the hearth. She seemed to be staring right at Sue.
Sue looked back into the black and golden orbs for several breaths as she lowered her hands. She rested the flute across her knees and turned her palms out.
“We’re here to help you,” Sue said, still watching the cat. “We’re here to listen. Will you let us?”
The altar candles flickered as if someone had run past them. Sue shut her eyes, lifting her hands, seeming to wait for something to be placed into them.
London bolted from the room.
* * *
“How can we help you?” Sue asked. “What do you need?”
The other three watched her. Sanders felt the hairs on the back of his neck on end, his heart beating fast. Tom appeared lonely in his seat without the cat.
Sue shook her head, silent now, breathing deeply through her nose, she flipped her hands over, palms down. She frowned, eye still closed.
No breeze or voices filled the room, no shadows or cold air, yet Sanders felt an energy without label, just as the candles had moved to it without a draft. Like static, like strong emotions without voice, like something very real that was impossible to see or define or explain. And he didn’t like it. He longed to follow London. Was he really so cowardly? No. It wasn’t being afraid. It was being ... out of bounds of normal life. Ready to step back in.
Again, Sue shook her head. He could see tension in her shoulders, though she had looked at ease until now.
“I don’t understand you,” she said softly, though no one else had spoken.
She turned her head to one side, as if avoiding something, letting out a breath, wincing.
For the first time, Amanda looked concerned. She set the harp aside in its case and shifted back to Sue, moving onto her knees as if ready to take some action to assist.
“Wait.” Sue’s tone had changed. She spoke firmly, giving an order. At the same time she lifted both hands protectively in front of her own face and sat up straighter. “I can’t hear you all at once.” Again, she winced, looking like someone who’d just had a mic tested in her ear. “I can’t. Please find a representative and tell me how we might help you. Who are you and what do you need?”
This still didn’t help. Sue flinched, blinking. Amanda reached to catch her shoulder. Sue shivered, taking deep breaths. Visibly steeling herself, she again sat up straight and shut her eyes.
“Sue?” Amanda started, but Sue shook her head.
“We’re here to listen,” Sue said. “But you must do your part. Tell me who you are, what you need, and what we can do. In your own time. We won’t abandon you. We made a mistake, but we’re all here for you now. Who are you?”
For a moment she was motionless, apparently receiving something back which now was not hurting her ears. Then, as the candles flickered, she gasped and recoiled into Amanda.
“That’s enough!” Again, Sue sat up, eyes open. She threw her hands out as if ridding herself of a hot potato. “I can’t understand you like this. If you will allow a single representative voice through—”
The candles went out.
Just for an instant, Sanders did feel a rush of chilly air skate across his own flesh and vanish like a shadow.
“Oh, goddess,” Sue muttered, letting out a breath and bowing her head.
Amanda looked around from the altar and trickle of candle smoke to Sue. “Are you certain this—?”
“Yes.” Sue sounded impatient. “They’re fine. They’re not malevolent or anything. They’re only ... frustrated. And ... there’s a lot going on here. Even after what Hansen said, I wasn’t expecting something like that. It was like standing out in a hurricane.” She pressed her knuckles into her temples, then sat back, blowing out a breath and dropping her hands to the rug.
“Okay,” Sue said after a pause, her voice soft again. “I’ll have to think about this. I’m not sure they can guide themselves. There’s too much tension, too much of a free-for-all. We need a plan for a more targeted approach, nothing generalised again.”
“How?” Amanda asked.
“I’m not sure about that either. It’s hard to profess yourself open to all the messages around you when you’re only aiming for one and don’t even know who to ask for. That’s why it’s so much better if they decide, not us. But, obviously, they couldn’t make that call.”
“So what did you get?” Amanda asked. “What are you going on?”
“I felt like I was in a barracks when the dinner bell rang.” Sue sighed. “Or the centre of a hornets’ nest. I have no idea what they wanted, only that they’re upset and they obviously don’t know how to talk to our side. They’ve been here a very long time by our reckoning and I don’t suppose a chance like this has ever walked in on them before.”
“Are you sure they won’t hurt you?” Amanda glanced at the dead candles.
“They’re upset.” Sue also looked at the candles. “That was just a fit of pique. Let’s have a think and a sleep and see if we can’t come up with something for the morning.”
“Lucid dreaming?” Amanda cocked her head.
“That’s a good idea.” Sue spoke slowly, now gazing at the house altar. “I still wish I knew who I was seeking though. Hansen attributed different rooms with different spirits. Perhaps that’s the next step. Focus on something exact, the tea for example, and try to reach the one associated with it. I’m just unsure something like that will work in this crowd.” She chewed her lip while Amanda watched her in silence.
“There’s one thing,” Sue went on, “but ... I don’t know...” She looked around at Amanda. “Let’s sleep on it. You’ve had a long day and I need time to ... wander.”
“Sounds good to me. Want me to open the circle?”
Sue nodded. “Thank you.”
“You all right?” Amanda leaned over to kiss her forehead as she stood up.
Another nod. “Just thinking.”
Amanda walked around them, talking about east, south, west, and north, elements, a goddess, and some other stuff, then shovelled a heap of ash over the little fire to put it out, and returned to Sue. She offered a hand to Sue, who had been sitting all this time with her eyes unfocused, facing the altar. She accepted Amanda’s hand and got to her feet.
The two of them looked around at Tom and Sanders. Neither had stirred or spoken since London had fled the room.
“Well,” Amanda said. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Sue looked concerned. “Are you two okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Sanders murmured, scarcely aware of the feel and shape of his own body, but pretty sure this was a cue to get up and move along.
“What?” Tom said, blinking at Sue.
“Are you okay? You both look...”
“Like they’ve seen a ghost?” Amanda asked.
“Do you understand what’s happened?” Sue asked. “That we need to try again? Do you want a drink?”
Was it a bad sign that a guest was offering him a drink in his own home?
“Yes,” Sanders said. “You’ll try again. And no, thank you. Go on up to bed. I’m sure we shall as well.”
Sue nodded as Amanda bid them goodnight and ushered her to the stairs.
Tom and Sanders looked at one another. After a moment, Tom said, “Did this just get real?”
“Strangely enough, I’d say so. One might’ve thought it would have before now.”
“We’re slower on the uptake than I’d imagined we were,” Tom said. “Scotch?”
“Please.” Sanders followed him to the dark kitchen, where, while Tom poured the glasses, Sanders gripped the back of a barstool so his hands didn’t shake.
By the time they went to bed, Sanders felt somewhat better. No reason this whole communication thing should have been any more jarring than the tea trail or talking to the cat or anything else, should it? It was only late and they’d had a long week and a lot of tension had been building up. Not only around ghosts, but around more personal matters as well.
It had just been ... unnerving. Seeing something like that right in front of you that wasn’t on a screen—wasn’t happening to someone else. Feeling it in the air. Watching the candles go out. Anyone would need a little grounding after that. Anyone except Sue and Amanda, who seemed to find it perfectly ordinary. Was that the problem? The other couple in the room behaving as if this was a normal part of life? Having a chat with crowds of hysterical dead people and trying to come up with better ways to speak to them was all in a day’s work?
Sanders wasn’t distracted from trying to figure out his own agitation until Tom slipped into bed beside him and ran his hand up below his T-shirt, kissing his neck.
What the hell?
“Second best is good enough for you tonight, then?” Sanders asked, tone frigid.
“What?” Tom sounded confused, though also not particularly interested. While Sanders remained tense, Tom kissed his jaw.
“Nothing.”
“Why are you mad at me?” Tom leaned back, propping himself on an elbow.
“Oh, I don’t know. Could dinner have anything to do with it?”
“Dinner?”
“You sat in silence for the whole meal. You’ve been going around like a stuffed owl all day since Amanda arrived. What did you want? You knew her girlfriend was probably also coming out here ever since we first made arrangements. I told you—”
“I didn’t know that was what you meant! When you said ‘girlfriend,’ I was thinking, like, Jess’s girlfriends that she used to go to the mall with. Right up until the airport, I thought this was her best friend who worked with her on her ... witchy stuff.”
“So your being wounded to discover her relationship status is why you thought it was acceptable to behave like a complete bastard all bloody day?” Sanders sat up and Tom also sat back on his hip.
“I did nothing of the—”
“Don’t give me that. You’re not blind. I have been trying to talk with you and to get your attention for three days. You clearly need to discuss your brother and what’s going on around here, but you won’t give me the time of day, won’t even keep appointments like Friday night—”
“If you were that upset about Friday we could have—” Tom started.
“I thought I made it clear that I was upset about Friday.”
“No, you actually said it was okay with you.”
“What else was I supposed to do? You’d already said you weren’t—”
“If something’s that big—”
“I cancelled a call last week that involved half a dozen other people and—”
“And I told you not to do that!”
“But you didn’t mean it! Just like I didn’t mean it that it was okay to skip it yesterday!”
“All you have to do is say something. You are such a damn martyr.”
“I’m the martyr?”
“Everything’s always covert with you. For the past year I feel like I’ve been involved in the world’s longest card game. Why are you so afraid, even now, even after all we’ve been through, of showing your hand? I mean, Christ, what do you think’s going to happen if you share your feelings and speak freely with me?”
“I do speak freely with you—”
“Maybe by your standards. By comparison to how you were last year. Or how you are with other people. Not in comparison to other romantic relationships. Compared to that, it’s still a card game with you.”
“For the past three days, you’ve hardly spoken to me at all. You have some nerve now saying I’m the one who—”
“Then what is it you want from me?”
“I want you to talk to me! I just said that! I want you to not be an oaf to our guests over a meal. I want you to be halfway civilised to both others and to me, and to admit why you’re upset about Sue and not behave like you don’t know what I’m talking about. And I want you to tell me what happened with your brother.”
Tom scrambled off the bed and stalked to the door, which he threw open. By light of the nearly full moon, Sanders saw the tabby and white, weightless form of the cat streak across the floor and dive under the bed the moment the door was opened. She had clearly been trying to get into the room.
Tom marched into the hall, yelled, “What the—?” and there was a great thump and crash as if he’d just been thrown to the floor.