Teddy frowned. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m rude and I don’t mean to be. You look beautiful.”
Elizabeth laughed. “That’s all right, Teddy. Some of my favorite people do that,” she said as she glanced up at Simon. “And thank you.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Victor Graham said as he joined them by the fireplace. “You gentlemen don’t mind if I steal my tomato girl?”
Both men nodded, but clearly neither was happy with the prospect of being left with the other. As she was pulled away, Elizabeth gave Simon a pleading look with emphasis on Teddy, who looked like a child left on the school steps for his first day of kindergarten.
Simon arched an eyebrow, but turned back to Fiske. “So, I understand you worked with Tesla.”
***
The dinner itself was served in a large formal dining room. There was a big, not quite Citizen Kane big, fireplace where the flames from the fire cast eerie shadows on the opposite wall. An ornate crystal chandelier with dozens of cream-colored candles hovered over the beautifully laid table. A tapestry of a traditional English hunt covered the wall behind the head of the table and a large mirror the opposite. Simon was seated across the table from her, which made conversation nearly impossible. Thank heaven Teddy was sitting next to her.
The table setting was ridiculously complex. Elizabeth could feel the sweat forming in her palms. The most formal dinner she’d attended was at Mexican Pete’s daughter’s quinceanera. And that was ten years ago and in a VWF hall. Of course, Simon had taken her to some very nice restaurants, but it was always just the two of them. If she used her fish fork to eat her salad, only Simon knew. She glanced down at the place setting in front of her. Four forks, three spoons, two knives and a disaster waiting happen.
She was careful to watch the other guests before she made any moves. In the end, it wasn’t difficult to follow along, but pacing herself was. Eight courses was five or six too many.
And then there was the booze—cocktails beforehand, sherry with the first courses, then several glasses of wine or champagne and finally port or Madeira. Luckily, she’d barely sipped each glass. For all the repressed trappings of Victorian society, they partied hearty.
Somewhere between the soup and the fish, Victor Graham had offered a toast to his rescuer. The group drank to her health and laughed as Graham recounted their adventure. Unfortunately, Elizabeth’s x-gene of invisibility still hadn’t manifested itself and so all she could do was smile and suffer gracefully.
Graham was much as he had been at the Cliff House—amiable, talkative and entertaining. Mary Graham, on the other hand, sat quietly at the other end of the table doing more rearranging of her food than eating it. Even in the yellow glow of the candles and lamplight, she looked pale. She smiled politely and made small talk with the couple seated at her end of the table, but she was a far cry from the convivial host her husband was.
Over three hours later, when the last course had been cleared, the men retired to a smoking room for cigars and brandy and the ladies to the salon for a demitasse or a cordial. After all that food, all Elizabeth wanted was some Alka-Seltzer and a six or seven hour nap.
Mary Graham remained pinched in the face and waved off any offers of drink. She joined in the conversations and was actually quite bright. Elizabeth expected the talk to be all frippery and fashion, but the ladies surprised her. They talked about politics, philosophy and art and even listened in earnest to Elizabeth when she had something to offer. It was nearly midnight when Victor Graham opened the doors to the ladies’ salon and announced that the night’s entertainment was about to begin. The room was instantly abuzz with anticipation.
Elizabeth found Simon in the hall. “It’s a marathon, isn’t it?”
“And too much for some,” he said gesturing to the smoking room where Teddy was fast asleep in an overstuffed leather chair. “We lost him about an hour ago.”
He looked adorable as he hugged a pillow to his chest. “Poor Teddy.”
“We’ll make sure he gets home after the…entertainment. God help us.”
The party, which had shed a few members and was down to eight, was escorted into yet another salon. All the occasional chairs and tables had been pushed against the walls or removed and were replaced by a large oval table. It was draped with a heavy red velvet tablecloth and ringed with nine hardback chairs.
At the center of the table amidst a cluster of candles sat a lidless tureen of soup and a basket of bread. The overly sweet scent of incense filled the room and the wisps of smoke disappeared up into the dark of the ceiling.
“Welcome to our séance,” Graham said with a wicked smile. Mary Graham stood at his side and seemed far less enthused at the idea.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. “Please be seated.”
“Petrovka,” Simon whispered in Elizabeth’s ear as he held out her chair.
So this was the mysterious Madame Petrovka. Simon had described her well. She was a far cry from the gypsy fortunetellers and new age mystics she’d seen back home. Madame Petrovka was definitely different.
Madame Petrovka gestured to a small, wiry man who followed her out of the shadows. “My assistant, Mr. Stryker, will join us to make the circle complete.”
Slugworth had nothing on Mr. Stryker. As if he wasn’t scary enough, he had a long scar that ran from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. It made him look a little like a ventriloquist’s dummy. And those turned up the creepy dial to eleven. Elizabeth nudged Simon and gestured questioningly toward Stryker. Simon shrugged in response.
“Now, it is vitally important,” Mrs. Petrovka said slowly, “that everyone here be open to the idea of the Other World. The spirits will not come to us if they sense negative energy. I must ask that if you cannot give yourself completely that you leave the circle now.”
No one moved to leave. Simon even managed to keep a straight face. She knew how he felt about these things. Despite having seen proof that the paranormal was more than fiction, he was still a skeptic. Elizabeth wasn’t exactly Mulder to his Scully, but she knew that the truth laid somewhere between them.
Elizabeth had never been to a real séance before. The closest she’d come was playing Light As a Feather, Stiff As a Board with some other kids at a local motel just outside of El Paso. Chanting and lifting a sixty pound seven year old off the floor with “just their wills” and a few fingers didn’t seem as impressive now as it had then. She had the feeling this séance would probably be a little more involved than that.
“Very good.” Madame Petrovka took her seat at the head of the table with Stryker to her left and Mary Graham to her right. “You are clearing your minds now. Please close your eyes. Breathe deeply. All together, please?”
Everyone took a few deep breaths. The smoke from the incense was so thick Elizabeth could taste it. It was sweet, earthy and floral.
“You are relaxing and opening to the world around you,” Madame Petrovka said. Her voice was breathy and yet, compelling, even commanding. “We want the spirits of the Other World to know that we welcome them. We are open to them and we hope they will join us. Please open your eyes and take the hands of the persons sitting next to you.”
Simon took hold of Elizabeth’s right hand and squeezed it. Victor Graham held her left. Madame Petrovka nodded and Mr. Stryker blew out all but three candles.
“Good, you are still relaxed and open. You must not let go of each other’s hands. The circle must not be broken. We make an offering of food to the spirits to nurture them and we invite them to join us.”
This lady was good. Elizabeth hadn’t felt so good and relaxed in ages. All of the tension from the dinner had faded away and everything seemed wonderful.
“I will now try to summon any spirits that are amongst us. You must not break the circle no matter what may occur. We are all safe and open to the Other World.”
Madame Petrovka’s eyes fluttered closed and she dipped her head. “Our beloved spirits, we bring you gifts from life unto death. Commune with us and move
among us. If you are here, give us a sign.”
A long silence followed where all Elizabeth could hear was her own heartbeat.
“We welcome, beloved spirit. Come among us. We reach out to you. Give us a sign.”
A sudden and loud rapping sound from the middle of the table sent a collective gasp through the room.
“We are so pleased you’ve come to us,” Madame Petrovka said. “You are welcome among us, spirit. Do you want to speak to us?”
Another loud knock came.
“Are you familiar with this place?
Another, a little louder than before.
“Can you tell us who you are?”
There was another long pause and then small flowers fluttered down from the ceiling. Violets. Victor Graham’s hand spasmed around hers.
Mary Graham cried out.
“Do not break the circle!”
“This means something to you?” Madame Petrovka prompted.
Mary Graham was softly crying and couldn’t speak. Her husband cleared his throat. “Our… our daughter’s name was Violet.”
“She has passed on?”
“Two years ago,” Graham said softly.
“Beloved spirit,” Madame Petrovka said, “are you Violet Graham?”
There was a long silent pause before a loud, sure knock made Mrs. Graham let out another strangled cry.
“We should stop this,” Victor said, but Mary cut him off.
“No, please.”
Madame Petrovka nodded and closed her eyes. “Violet, you are welcome here. Your parents miss you very much. Would you like to talk to them?”
The rapping on the table came again.
“Yes, I sense her now.”
“Violet,” Mary said through her tears. “We miss you so much, darling.”
Elizabeth was fascinated, but felt like an intruder at the same time. Real or not, this was deeply personal.
“She loved you very much,” Madame Petrovka said. “She… something’s wrong. What’s wrong, Violet?”
“What is it?” Graham asked.
“She’s frightened.”
“It’s all right, darling,” Mary said.
“She’s moving,” Madame Petrovka said. “Why are you running, child? Are you playing a game?”
The chandelier crystals clinked as it shook. A glass clattered against a tray on the far side of the room. A chair moved as it if had been bumped and suddenly Elizabeth felt something ice cold pass through her. She must have gasped because Simon clenched her hand in his and was looking at her with concern.
“I felt her,” Mary cried. “She passed right through me!”
“She seems upset,” Madame Petrovka said. “How did she die?”
Graham answered in a hushed and hoarse voice. “Drowned. She was just four.”
“Sometimes spirits, especially the young, don’t understand what’s happened to them,” Madame Petrovka said. “Are you afraid to cross over, child?”
She appeared to be listening to a voice only she heard. “What’s wrong, child?”
She listened again and her face grew grim. “Everyone must remain calm no matter what should happen next.”
“What’s going on?” Graham demanded.
“She is not alone.”
“What do you mean not alone?” Graham said getting more agitated with every passing second.
“There is a presence with her.”
“We’re here, darling. Don’t be afraid,” Mary said.
“It is whispering to her, always in the shadows.” Abruptly, Madame Petrovka’s demeanor changed. She was stern and angry. “Get away from the other, Violet. Right now!”
“What’s happening to her?” Mary cried as she looked desperately from Madame Petrovka to her husband.
“Tell her to do as I say!”
“Listen to her, Violet,” Mary said, looking around the room trying in vain to see her child in the darkness. “Do what she says. Move away.”
“It’s looking for her. It’s…” Madame Petrovka’s head fell to her chest. Slowly, she raised her head again and when she opened her eyes they were black. She opened her mouth and a sound Elizabeth would never forget came out. It was low and rasping and horrible. It grew louder and louder until it filled the room. Mary Graham screamed.
Elizabeth gripped Simon’s hand more tightly. Mr. Stryker lurched from his seat and grabbed Madame Petrovka by the shoulders and yelled into her face, “Be gone!”
Simon jumped out of his chair and stood behind Elizabeth’s chair, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders. The sound was horrible.
It reached a crescendo with a thunderous clap and the sound stopped. Madame Petrovka blinked and seemed to come back to herself. Mary Graham cried and Victor tried to comfort her. The rest of the room sat in stunned silence as a wind blew through the windowless room and snuffed out the candles leaving them in pitch black.
Chapter Sixteen
Simon threw open the doors to the hall and called for the servants. He cursed under his breath knowing he should have stopped this charade sooner. A maid and footman hurried inside. The man lit the gas lamps and the room glowed back to life.
Elizabeth went to Mary Graham who was near hysteria. She tried to comfort her, but the woman was barely listening. The other couples dithered about unsure and frightened.
Victor tried his best to calm his wife, but it was no use. “Ellen,” he barked to the maid. “Take Mrs. Graham to her room.”
The young girl nodded and took a step toward her mistress. She stopped and looked down at the carpet. There were small wet footprints leading to Mrs. Graham’s chair. “Sir?”
“Take her,” Victor said, easing his wife out of her chair and into the maid’s arms.
Madame Petrovka had left the table and stood on the edge of the room, appearing faint and breathing heavily. Mr. Stryker held her arm and whispered in her ear. She nodded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Graham. I must recover.”
She started to leave, but Graham blocked her path. “What was that? What are you playing at?”
Madame Petrovka looked at him sadly. Mr. Stryker strode forward and tried to move Graham out of the way. “Later. She needs rest.”
Graham was clearly torn, but stepped aside and let them leave. The rest of the party fled the room leaving Simon and Elizabeth alone with Graham and leaving them all wondering what in the hell had just happened.
Graham’s breath was still ragged and his eyes were a little wild. Simon didn’t blame him in the least. He gave Graham a moment and the man composed himself as best he could. “I apologize. This was not the entertainment I had in mind.”
Simon knelt near one of the small footprints on the rug and felt the wetness. “Water.” He smelled it and then brought a finger to his mouth and tasted it. “Salt water.”
Graham looked like he’d been hit in the stomach. “Sea water.” His face paled again and he struggled not to break down. “Please excuse me,” he said and fled the room.
Elizabeth looked at Simon anxiously. “What the hell was that, Simon?”
“I don’t know.” He picked up an oil lamp from the credenza and lit the wick. “But I plan to find out.”
He knelt again and studied the small footprints, even lifting up the edge of the rug. He walked the perimeter of the room carefully scanning for wires, tubes, any sort of tampering. They searched under the table and above the chandelier. Nothing looked to be out of place, no hidden mechanisms or any of the usual tricks of the trade.
Confident he’d searched as best he could, he turned to Elizabeth. That’s when he noticed how pale she was and that she was actually shivering. He took off his dinner jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”
Elizabeth gave the violets that covered the tabletop one last glance and then nodded. They gathered up Teddy who was still sleeping soundly in the other room. After helping him out to his carriage, they got into their own and started back to Mrs. Eldridge’s.
“Are you all right?” Sim
on asked.
“I’m fine. I just…you didn’t feel it?”
Simon rubbed one of her hands between his. It was ice cold. “Feel what?”
Elizabeth shivered. “I don’t know. It felt like jumping into ice water.”
“Can you remember anything else?”
“I don’t know. It was right before that…what was that, Simon?”
He didn’t answer. As much as he’d love to believe they’d witnessed an actual paranormal event, he knew that everything they’d seen that night could be explained. Somehow. Given enough time, he’d figure out Madame Petrovka’s tricks. Regardless, whatever had happened the effects on the Grahams and Elizabeth were real enough.
“I don’t know what it was,” Elizabeth said sounding much more like her old self, “But I’m not a fan.”
When they arrived back at Mrs. Eldridge’s, Gerald greeted them at the door. “Good eve-- What’s wrong?” he asked Elizabeth. “What happened?” he demanded of Simon.
“Tea, lots of it,” Simon said.
“English,” Gerald muttered, but he left to start the tea.
Simon and Elizabeth went into the front parlor. She was still shivering and Simon pulled a chair in front of the hearth. He stoked the fire and lit a few lamps. “Better?”
“That was genuinely disturbing, Simon.”
He pulled a chair close to hers. “Yes, it was,” he said with a deep frown. “And a little too coincidental, don’t you think? The man you’re sent here to save is the victim of a charlatan days before his murder?”
Though Elizabeth nodded, he could see the doubt in her eyes. “That was more than smoke and mirrors though, Simon. And, besides, what could she gain from that?”
“Control? Blackmail? I don’t know. But I do know that what happened was not what it appeared to be.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Color me unconvinced. You searched the room. How do you explain the flowers? And that thing at the end.”
“There’s an explanation.”
“What if it was real?”
Simon didn’t have an answer to that. “I believe that we should consider the possible before the impossible.”
Out of Time Series Omnibus (Out of Time: A Paranormal Romance & When the Walls Fell) Page 42
