My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled the golf cart over and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Mackenzie, where are you?” It was Gabrielle. “I’ve been waiting.”
“Ah, crap. I forgot to text you back. I got roped into covering someone’s shift.”
Irritation rang through Gabrielle’s sigh. “Well, I wish you would have let me know. I’ve been sitting here for half an hour.”
I bit my lip. “I’m so sorry. I’ve only got a couple of hours left. Can I come by after I’m done?”
“I’m hosting a séance at nine o’clock. You’re welcome to attend, and perhaps we can chat afterward.”
I checked my watch. My shift ended at nine, but I could probably sneak off a few minutes early and bolt for Gabrielle’s shop.
“I’ll be there,” I promised.
“Sure.” She hung up without a goodbye.
I swore under my breath as I got the cart moving again. This day just keeps getting better and better.
* * *
By the end of my second shift, my body ached from lifting supply totes, and the novelty of cruising down the street at a whopping fifteen miles per hour had long since worn off. I’d thought I got off easy when I was assigned to be a runner, but apparently Penelope had been punishing me after all.
Phillip didn’t seem to mind when I dashed into the volunteer station ten minutes before my shift technically ended. He got up from his camp chair and walked toward me to collect my keys and radio.
“Thank you for covering for my dear sister. I truly appreciate your extra efforts.”
He opened his arms, and I realized he wanted to hug me. I stepped away from him and backed up toward the tent’s flaps.
“Uh, yeah. No problem,” I told him. “See you tomorrow.”
For the second time that day, I sprinted across the town square, darting through the crowd to make it to Gabrielle’s without being waylaid. This time I was successful, and I crossed Main Street with plenty of time to spare.
The windows of Gabrielle’s narrow Victorian were dark except for the light of a single, flickering candle on the first floor. I fell into step beside an elderly woman wearing a long fur coat. I held the heavy wooden door to the shop open for her, and she accepted my arm for additional support as we climbed the stairs to the attic.
“You’re such a sweet young woman,” she told me, as she took her time with each step. “My name is Lillian.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Mac. Is this your first séance?”
“Oh, no. I’ve been coming to see Gabrielle for decades. At my age, you know, more of my friends have passed on than haven’t.”
“Are you always able to connect with them?”
We paused on the second-floor landing, where Lillian removed her coat and draped it over one arm. Beneath it, she was wearing a long black dress covered in tiny shimmering beads. A heavy necklace inlaid with sparkling jewels hung around her neck. I got the feeling she wasn’t scraping by on a tiny retirement fund.
“Not always,” she said. “Have you ever attended a séance before?”
I shook my head, and we started ascending the stairs once more.
“Then you’re in for a treat. Even if I’m not able to talk to someone, I love being here. It’s quite an experience.”
“I can only imagine.” I wasn’t actually sure how I felt about the séance. I had zero interest in having a conversation with one of my dead parents while in a roomful of other people. On the other hand, I was extremely curious to see another psychic in action.
“Of course, I do prefer it when I get to speak to my older sister. She was a lovely woman and always looked after me. She passed away fifteen years ago. Heart problems. But it’s the most marvelous thing: I can still feel her looking after me. Last year she came to me during the séance and warned me to be careful. And do you know what happened? While I was in Paris last fall, my home in Chicago was burgled!”
“Oh, my,” I said.
Lillian nodded. “It was terrible. The thieves made off with most of my jewelry and quite a bit of valuable art and furniture. The police said it was definitely the work of professionals. But thanks to my sister, I’d taken my favorite jewels with me.” She fingered the gems around her neck. “I would have been devastated to lose this. It’s been in the family for generations.”
We reached the third floor. A pair of coat racks flanked the oaken door at the top of the stairs, which was propped open. Lillian allowed me to hang up her heavy fur coat, and we entered the séance room.
The converted attic was much the same as I remembered from my previous visit. The folding screens were arranged in a circle around the low table, and dark fabric stretched from their tops to a central point on the ceiling. The air was heavy with the smell of sandalwood incense, and the only light came from an ornately decorated lantern that hung from the nexus of the hanging fabrics. The effect was intimate—almost claustrophobic—and I felt as though I was in a tent in a desert somewhere. There were already six people sitting around the table, and their bodies were all radiating heat.
Gabrielle appeared from behind one of the screens, wearing a long, off-the-shoulder dress with ruffled sleeves. Her eye makeup was heavy and smoky, and she wore dark lipstick. She looked like a gypsy—or at least how I imagined a gypsy might look.
“Lillian!” she cried. “It’s so good to see you.”
Gabrielle gathered the older woman into a hug then led her to one of the floor pillows. After she helped Lillian sit down, there was only one pillow left, and Gabrielle steered me away from it and toward the edge of the space. She ducked behind another screen and returned with a rickety three-legged stool.
“I’m sorry, Mackenzie, but I sold out tonight’s session. Do you mind sitting over here? I think it’ll be a more suitable vantage point for you.”
“I don’t mind.” I was relieved that I wouldn’t be directly involved in the séance. Although after the day I’d had, I would’ve preferred a nice, fluffy pillow on the floor.
“Séances are very delicate. It’s extremely important that you sit as still as you can, and that you don’t speak at all during the session. I’m sure you’ll have many questions, and I’ll happily answer them when we’re finished.” She gave me a reassuring smile and left me to settle in on the rough wooden stool.
Something rubbed against my ankles. A tall gray cat was winding between the legs of the stool, brushing its face against me. It was the strangest looking cat I’d ever seen; it had gigantic ears that loomed over piercing yellow eyes and didn’t appear to have any fur at all. I reached down to stroke its back, expecting the bare skin to feel rough. Instead the cat felt soft and smooth, almost like suede. The animal seemed thin, even skinnier than Striker had been when I’d first met her.
I wonder if Striker would look like this if her fluffy fur were shaved off?
The cat blinked up at me then stationed itself near the table.
Gabrielle shut the door and took a seat on the last vacant pillow. She smiled around the table at the seven other people in attendance, all around the same age as Lillian. Everyone was well dressed, and despite their advanced ages, they seemed perfectly comfortable on the big square pillows. I recognized Mark’s aunt Sheryl, whose vibrant purple hair sharply contrasted with the reserved gray of the rest of the elderly attendees.
Gabrielle raised her hands into the air with her palms facing upward and spoke in a loud, clear voice.
“Welcome, everyone, to this opportunity to commune with those who have passed before us. Tonight we will call out into the space beyond the veil and beseech our dear departed loved ones to join us at this table. Tonight we shall connect with that place where spirits wait to enter the next life. Please remember that if they have already passed on to what awaits us all on the other side, we will not be able to reach them. However, if they are lingering here on earth, they may be open to our call.”
Gabrielle lowered her hands and picked up a long box of matches. She struck one and leaned forward across the table, lighting the three candles that sat in the center. Each of the candles was a different color and shape: one was blue and triangular, another red and circular, and the third was yellow and square. She shook out the match and rested it on a metal plate then pressed a button and extinguished the light from the ceiling. The cat’s yellow eyes glowed in the flickering candlelight.
“Please join hands,” she said.
The attendees around the table clasped hands, forming an unbroken circle. It reminded me of the photo I’d seen in the basement of City Hall, where there were too many hands on the séance table. I shivered.
“Focus your minds,” Gabrielle instructed. “If there is someone you would like to make contact with tonight, think of them. Remember them. Hear their voice in your mind, and call to them.”
The room was silent except for the sounds of nine people and one cat breathing. I tried to keep my mind clear. I didn’t want my mother or father—or worse, Tom Bishop—showing up in front of all of these people. I tried to focus on watching the faces of the people around the table, whose eyes were closed in deep concentration, but my day had been exhausting and my own eyes wanted to rest. My eyelids slipped down, and I let myself relax as much as the rickety stool allowed.
After what felt like a long time, I detected a low rumble in the room. It was a familiar sound, but something about it was off. It took me a moment to recognize it as the purring of a cat because it was much louder than I had ever heard a cat purr before.
Gabrielle spoke. “Someone is here.”
I opened my eyes. The air in the room felt different. The change was difficult to pinpoint, but I soon realized the smell of incense had been replaced. The faint scent of charred wood filled my nostrils as clearly as if I were sitting around a campfire. I looked at Gabrielle nervously. Had the candle in the downstairs window fallen over? Was the building on fire?
She caught my eye and shot me a reassuring smile. She inclined her head, indicating a shape near the door. The door hadn’t opened, but a young man now stood there. He was tall and wore a puffy brown vest over a long-sleeved shirt. His face was covered in black soot, and though he gave off a soft glow, he cast no shadow.
My breath caught. Honestly, I hadn’t expected to see anything extraordinary at all, and now it seemed a ghost had shown up within the first half hour. I searched the faces of the people sitting immediately next to Gabrielle—could they see the figure? They didn’t appear alarmed. Oddly, the longer I looked at the spirit, the calmer I became. I had the overwhelming feeling that this ghost wasn’t here to start any trouble, just like the one in the Grimshaw Library. His face looked sad, not angry, and his eyes were warm.
“Mr. Lasko, I believe our visitor is here to see you,” Gabrielle said.
A hunched old man sat directly across from Gabrielle. “For me?” His voice was thin and reedy, and his hands shook in his neighbors’ grips. “Is it David?”
The apparition pulsed momentarily, growing brighter like a light bulb that is about to burn out, and then returned to his original soft glow.
“Yes, it’s your son.”
Gabrielle took a deep breath, and the ghost moved through the table toward her. The cat jumped up on the table and struck a defensive posture in front of her but didn’t hiss. David stopped moving and sunk downward until he was sitting right in front of Gabrielle, his torso cut off by the wooden tabletop. Gabrielle stared straight ahead and gazed directly into David’s eyes. Strangely, the eyes of the others around the table didn’t follow the ghostly figure when he moved.
They can’t see it. But Gabrielle can… Does the ghost look like a man to her or a shimmering shape? I’d come here with a dozen questions, but the séance had brought on a hundred more.
“You may speak, Mr. Lasko,” Gabrielle said, her voice flat.
The old man appeared pained. “Oh, my boy, my sweet, sweet boy. Why haven’t you moved on? Why are you still here? It’s been so many years since the fire.”
Gabrielle inhaled a second time, taking a long, deep breath and straightening her spine. She looked regal, like a queen about to make a proclamation to her people. When she spoke again, her voice echoed slightly, as though we were sitting in the middle of a cavern.
“I wait for you.” Gabrielle spoke in a strange double tone. I could hear her own accented voice, but there was a second one behind it, deep and masculine and slightly quieter than hers.
The room was momentarily silent. Realizing I was holding my breath, I released it. The ghost was talking through Gabrielle. Just like Kit had said, it was as if Gabrielle had become a telephone, and Mr. Lasko was using her to have a conversation with his dead son.
“You’re waiting?” Mr. Lasko asked in a quiet voice.
Gabrielle spoke again in that odd, echoing way. “We cross over together.”
“But your mother has already passed on. I want you to be with her.”
Gabrielle was silent, staring straight ahead. The ghostly figure in front of her shimmered. She gripped the table, her knuckles growing white before uttering a single word. “No.”
Mr. Lasko’s trembling stopped. “David,” he said, his voice suddenly much firmer than I imagined possible, “you must move on. I can still feel you in your old room. It broke my heart enough to lose you.” His voice cracked. “Can’t you see how much worse you’re making it? I need to know that you’ve moved on. I need to be able to imagine that you’re somewhere better, happy, and with your mother.”
Gabrielle tipped her head backward and exhaled loudly through her mouth. As she did, the apparition faded. Her posture relaxed, and she took several long, even breaths.
“David?” Mr. Lasko’s voice was sharp and panicky.
Gabrielle shook her head. “He’s gone, Mr. Lasko.”
My eyes widened. Gone? Had I just witnessed someone passing on to the other side? I expected it to be more dramatic.
Gabrielle seemed to read my mind. “Gone only from this room, not from this plane. I don’t believe he’s moved on to the next life, Mr. Lasko. He simply didn’t want to argue with you anymore.”
Mr. Lasko’s shoulders slumped forward, and his hands slipped out from his neighbor’s grasp. He gave a low sob. It made my heart ache. This is exactly why I don’t want to see my parents. I didn’t think I could bear the idea that they were stuck between worlds, not moving on to whatever awaits us on the other side.
Still purring loudly, the hairless cat walked across the table and sat down in front of Mr. Lasko. It leaned its head down and butted against Mr. Lasko’s forehead. The old man raised a trembling hand and stroked the cat’s back as tears fell from his chin.
“Would you like to recover in private?” Gabrielle asked softly.
The old man continued to cry, and nodded. Gabrielle motioned for me to come to her side.
“Please escort Mr. Lasko downstairs,” she whispered into my ear. “There’s a sitting room on the second floor, first door on the right.”
I walked around the table and helped Mr. Lasko stand. His arms felt willowy and fragile, and we moved slowly for the attic door and the stairs beyond it. When we reached the second floor, I guided him to the room Gabrielle had indicated. It was a very pleasant space, with creamy walls and a long microfiber couch. The décor surprised me; it was very simple and modern, and there were no antiques or knickknacks like in the bookstore or the séance room upstairs.
Mr. Lasko took a seat on the couch and picked up a small bottle of water from a basket on a square side table. He opened the bottle, took a long drink, and sat back against the cushions. His eyes were dull and unfocused.
“Are you going to be alright? Is there anything I can get you?” I was at a loss for anything useful to say or do.
He shook his head. “No, nothing. Please, go back up to the séance.”
Nodding, I backed out of the room and headed upstairs. I’d recognized that look on his face: grief. There was nothing to do but leave him to his thoughts.
I was surprised to find the attic door still open when I reached the top of the stairs. I’d expected Gabrielle to close it and continue her session. When I walked into the attic, Gabrielle motioned for me to take a seat on Mr. Lasko’s now-vacant cushion.
Instead of sitting down, I tiptoed around the table to whisper in her ear. “You want me to join the circle?”
“You don’t have to reach out to anyone,” she muttered back. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you kept your mind clear. But this works better with nine.”
“Nine?” Including Gabrielle and me, there would only be eight people around the table.
“Nine,” she repeated, inclining her head toward the cat, who had returned to its place at her side.
Frowning, I skirted back around the table to close the door and then sunk down into Mr. Lasko’s cushion. It was far more comfortable than my stool had been, but I wasn’t happy to be participating in the séance. A warm hand grabbed mine, and I turned to the left. Mark’s aunt Sheryl was smiling beside me, her heart-shaped face aglow with excitement.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered.
I swallowed and took the hand to my right, which belonged to Lillian. She gave me a reassuring squeeze, and I nodded at Gabrielle to let her know I was ready.
Gabrielle took a deep breath before speaking again. “Please, everyone, focus your minds. If there is someone you would like to make contact with tonight, think of them.”
I forced any thoughts of my mom and dad from my mind and focused on thinking of nothing. It was difficult, and I closed my eyes to avoid distractions. A few minutes later, Lillian gasped from beside me and her grip tightened on my hand. I opened my eyes, expecting to see another ghost in the room, but there was nothing. The only figures in the room were those sitting around the table. I allowed my eyelids to slide downward again and turned my attention to the way my breath felt in my lungs. It felt good. The air around us didn’t feel so close anymore, and the incense was beginning to dissipate.
Breathing is one of those things we take for granted, I thought, beginning to imagine what it would feel like if I couldn’t breathe. What if I was stuck inside a closet or was drowning? I saw myself falling off the dock at Lake Anam and disappearing among the reeds. Would my lungs feel full if they were filled with water instead of air?
In my mind’s eye, the image warped and shifted. It was no longer my body among the reeds. The figure became bloated, and instead of my own face, I saw Tom Bishop’s.
The frail hands in mine began to shake and tremble. I opened my eyes to check on Lillian and Sheryl. They were both shivering, and their breath puffed out of their mouths in clouds of white mist. My eyebrows came together. This hadn’t happened earlier.
Something bumped against my elbows, and I glanced downward. The table shifted, hopping into the air a fraction of an inch, just high enough to crack into my elbows again. Had someone kicked it from below?
I looked around at the rest of the people in the circle, checking to see if anyone was messing with the table, but everyone seemed quite still. They were all staring at Gabrielle, their eyes wide with fear.
Seeing that expression on the faces around me made my heart jump. There hadn’t been any fear before. The table bounced upward again. My gaze flew to Gabrielle. She was silently panting, and sweat poured down her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut as though she was putting a lot of effort into keeping them closed.
The cat jumped forward from its place in front of Gabrielle and landed in the center of the table, where it began to growl. The deep, rumbling sound rose to a shrieking crescendo as the cat arched its back. The table beneath the cat’s paws bucked from side to side, and the circle broke as everyone around the table was knocked backward by a concussive BOOM!
Sheryl screamed and crawled toward the door. The rest of the people around me scattered for safety, seeking cover behind the folding screens or beneath side tables.
“Everyone stay calm!” shouted Gabrielle.
One of the folding screens crashed to the floor, narrowly missing a shrunken older man with a long beard who’d been attempting to get behind it. The fabric above our heads began to billow as though blown by a strong wind. I ducked my head and sprinted to Gabrielle as books and letters flew around the room. It felt like a tornado had touched down in the attic.
“What’s going on?” I shouted over the chaos.
“It’s a poltergeist!” she yelled back. “It must have slinked in while our minds were open. Quickly, get me the sage from that bowl!”
She pointed to a small copper bowl that rested near the back of the room. Strangely, it was undisturbed, and I could see several sage bundles poking up above the rim. I ran to retrieve it and brought it back to Gabrielle, who grabbed the blue candle from the séance table. She lit a sage stick and handed it to me, then lit a second one for herself.
The comforting aromas of sage, cedar, and lavender wafted up to me, and I suddenly felt as though I was standing in the eye of a hurricane. All around me, chaos reigned, but my head was clear.
“I’ll handle the banishing,” Gabrielle shouted. “You get everyone else and take them downstairs.”
Her voice was commanding, and I rushed off, shepherding the elderly séance attendees toward the attic door and shouting instructions to them. They showed a surprising amount of hustle for their advanced ages, and I was able to get all six of them onto the landing outside the door in under a minute.
“Go downstairs,” I told Sheryl. “Wait in the sitting room on the second floor. Do you know how to get there?”
She nodded and took ahold of Lillian’s arm. “We can get ourselves down the stairs. You help Gabrielle.”
I shot back into the attic and pulled the door closed behind me. Gabrielle was moving around the room in a clockwise circle, muttering under her breath and ignoring the projectiles that were flying from corner to corner. She’d opened the large dormer windows that stood on both sides of the room, and a light breeze was blowing around the space, tugging at the decorative tapestries and yanking the sheet off a long mirror that’d been tucked into a corner of the room.
As the sheet crumpled to the floor, the tall figure of Tom Bishop appeared in the mirror. Our eyes locked, and every hair on my head lifted a fraction of an inch as goosebumps covered my body. I refused to look away, convinced that if I did, Tom would appear behind me and grab me like he had in my bathroom. So I stared at him, not even blinking, until he mouthed a single, silent word: Evelyn.
Then he vanished.
My heart pounded in a fast, steady rhythm, and I took several deep breaths to calm myself. I fell into step behind Gabrielle, focusing my will as I had in my apartment. It was much more difficult this time. Tom Bishop’s face kept barging into my mind, mouthing my mother’s name, and I shook my head to clear it.
You shouldn’t have let yourself think about him.
Lecturing myself wasn’t helping me focus. I gritted my teeth and concentrated on asking Tom’s spirit to go away. Leave us in peace. You’re not welcome.
After a few minutes, the room around us grew calmer. The fabric that crisscrossed the ceiling stopped billowing and lay still. A hush fell. I could hear my own breathing and the soft sound of Gabrielle’s bare feet on the floor.
She stopped walking and sighed. “There. The spirit is gone.”
Tension knotted between my shoulder blades. “Does that happen a lot?”
“I’ve never been interrupted by a poltergeist before. These sessions are usually very peaceful. Something must have drawn the spirit here.” She stared at me, her green eyes wide and thoughtful. “Something… or someone.”