"Two bones, not one?"
"Yes, sir. Two bones. A large one from a leg and a tiny one from a hand."
"And how did she account for her action?"
"She said the spirit of the dead woman had just informed her that the two bones were not part of her skeleton."
A loud murmur passed around the room. The coroner looked up but didn't admonish the crowd.
"And were either of the two bones the one that was substituted?"
"Unknown to me, Deputy Coroner Riddell had switched two bones from another skeleton of approximately the same age, size, and gender. The bones Miss Watson selected were the two substituted bones."
"Are you sure you didn't let information about the switch slip, and she simply somehow picked the correct two bones at random?"
"I had never said a word to her about the substitution. And as I just testified here, I didn't even know the deputy coroner had substituted two bones for the test. I believed he was only going to swap one. And I certainly didn't know which one— just that there would be no obvious, visible differences."
"Very well. You're excused, Lieutenant. Deputy Coroner Riddell is called to give his testimony now."
Two and a half hours later, Lt. Bolger entered the room where Arlene was waiting patiently and took a seat in a chair across from her.
"The inquest is over," he said. "Based on the evidence of the car being found nearby, the testimony of the deputy coroner and a corroborating medical expert, the coroner ruled that the death is suspicious and possibly a homicide. Instead of an open missing-persons case, we have an open murder investigation."
"Over? What about me?"
"I think the coroner was afraid to call you. He's running for reelection this fall and might have feared turning the inquest into a circus. You should have seen the courtroom. It was filled to capacity. We had a murder trial here last year that didn't draw half as many people."
"You mean I drove all this way for nothing?"
"I'm sorry. It's like that sometimes."
Arlene breathed in deeply and then expelled the air quickly to show her exasperation. "I guess I might as well get headed home then. I have a long drive ahead of me."
"I apologize again. And we've appreciated the assistance you've given us in this case. If it's any consolation, I've begun to seriously doubt my former conviction that gho— spirits don't exist."
Arlene smiled. "I suppose that's something. If you work at it, you might even be able to sense them someday."
"Uh, I don't think I'd care to take it to that level. Perhaps that can wait until I— cross over."
"As you wish," Arlene said, standing. Lt. Bolger stood up also.
Narrowing her eyes slightly, Arlene said, "Something tells me I'll see you again, Lieutenant. Very soon."
"I hope you're right, Miss Watson," he said, smiling. "It's been a very pleasurable experience."
Extending her hand, Arlene said, "Goodbye."
Lt. Bolger shook the proffered hand lightly and echoed the parting remark. He stared after her, admiring her legs as she crossed to the door and left the room. Still thinking about her legs, he turned and walked back into the courtroom, taking a shortcut to his office.
Arlene had almost reached her car when she heard, "Excuse me, Madam Arlene, do you have a minute?" Turning, she saw Gisela hurrying towards her.
"I'm so sorry for the way I acted earlier," Gisela began before she had even reached Arlene. "I was just so overwhelmed by your power."
"My power?"
"Yes, of course. My own small ability is through my sense of touch, and I could feel your power coursing through me like an electrical charge as soon as we shook hands."
"Really?" Arlene said, involuntarily flexing her right hand as she recalled the death grip Gisela had had on her hand.
"Yes, of course. And if you have a few minutes, Madam Elana would love to speak with you."
"I have a very long drive ahead of me."
"It will only take a few minutes— and I promise it will be well worth your while. Like yourself, Madam Elana is incredibly gifted."
The opportunity to meet another real spiritualist wasn't something Arlene could pass up. Besides, she felt Gisela wasn't going to take no for an answer without a long argument. And, after all, what were a few more minutes out of an already wasted day?
Leaving her car in the county lot, Arlene followed Gisela to the antiques and curios shop on a side street. The two-story frame building with clapboard siding appeared to be showing signs of age— its grey paint blistering and peeling in the summer sun. Otherwise, the building seemed to be in good condition. As they reached the building, Arlene noticed a slightly lighter paint rather than bare wood beneath the peeling paint, leading her to speculate that the surface of the outer wall might have been especially prepared to have the outer coat of paint buckle and peel, giving the appearance of age and neglect while still protecting the building from the elements. A similarly weathered sign hung over the door, perpendicular to the building to attract foot traffic, and a very large sign announcing Georgina Antiques spanned the entire front of the building. Arlene felt the business might have been better served simply by having a location on the main street. A plastic sign in the window indicated that the store was closed, but the front door opened easily when Gisela turned the handle.
Arlene was instantly delighted she had decided to come. The interior was so much larger than she'd expected, the store extending back more than a hundred feet from the entrance and half that wide, with the contents seeming to run the gamut from large weathervanes and lightning rods to furniture, paintings, and tiny ceramic knick-knacks. The shelves were so crammed with interesting objects that it hardly seemed another thing could be brought into the store. Larger antiques, those that couldn't be placed onto overcrowded shelves, were suspended overhead by wires attached to hooks in the ceiling. It seemed that every nook and cranny was filled with something interesting, and a stairway led to a second floor of merchandise. There was a small amount of dust on some of the goods, but overall the shop was as clean and tidy as could be expected, and there was no hint of the musty odor often found in such shops. Arlene immediately knew she could easily spend days browsing in the store. While she examined a silver tea service that appeared to date from the early 1800s, Gisela hurried to the back of the store.
"Welcome, Madam Arlene," a woman said a few minutes later as she approached Arlene through a packed aisle. Gisela followed behind her. Like Gisela, the woman was dressed all in black, but unlike Gisela, her clothes were chic and her appearance impeccable. In the dim light of the 'closed' shop, and from a distance, Arlene's first impression had been that the woman was in her sixties. But as she got closer, Arlene saw that she appeared to be only in her mid-thirties. With milky skin and long hair as white as freshly fallen snow, Arlene immediately suspected albinism, but her dark brown eyes discounted that speculation. High cheekbones and a narrow nose gave her a decidedly genteel look, and her tailored suit showed off her slender body to its best advantage. She would not have looked out of place at any society event in Boston or New York City. As naturally tall as Arlene and currently wearing three-inch heels, she towered over tiny Gisela.
"It's Miss, not Madam."
"The title is not intended to denote one's marital status. We use it as a sign of respect for the wisest or the most powerful among us."
"Us?"
"We who have certain powers or abilities far beyond those of most other mortals."
"I see. And you include me in that group?"
"I could hardly do otherwise. You detected the location of poor Simona's remains when we could not— and from a great distance."
"I suspect Simona herself is responsible for that. I believe she learned of my gift, located me, and planted the dream in my mind so I would lead the authorities to her remains. I would not otherwise have been able to divine her location."
"Perhaps," Madam Elana said, nodding. "But that doesn't alter the fact that we've been una
ble to solve the mystery of her disappearance for these eleven years. At times I've wondered if Simona was shielding the details of her death from us."
"Why would she do that?"
"At first it might have been to protect us, but it might also be that she's upset with us for not punishing her killer."
"But why would she be upset? It's not like you knew who her killer was. Um— do you know who her killer was?"
"Oh yes, most certainly."
"Then you must inform the police immediately."
"The police are powerless in this matter. Simona was killed by a demon."
"A demon?"
"Yes, a demon— a former resident of the Underworld who has returned to the Earth as an evil spirit without shape or form."
"But that's impossible," Arlene said. "The seven gates of the Underworld allow passage just one way. Once you're pulled in, you don't get out."
"Don't believe everything you read or hear. The most learned theologians of organized religions go to great lengths to suppress certain truths by spreading disinformation. For those who are most determined, there are always ways to accomplish the seemingly impossible. For a demon to escape the Underworld and roam the Earth again, he only needs the help of a special mortal with the knowledge and ability to grant such freedom."
"But what mortal would do such a thing? Who would have helped a demon escape from hell?"
"Why I did, of course. Didn't Gisela tell you? We're witches."
* * *
Chapter Four
"Witches? You're a practitioner of the dark arts?"
"No, not at all. We're not Satanists or anything like that, if that's what you mean. In fact, I was a Christian before I converted to Wicca. Satanists misuse the trappings and rituals of witchcraft in their ceremonies, but they should never be confused with legitimate witches."
"Then why in the name of the Goddess would you have helped a demon escape from the Underworld?"
"It wasn't intentional, I assure you. I discovered a spell scrawled inside the rear cover of an ancient book on herbal healing that I acquired, and I misunderstood its function. The one line of text above the spell said it was 'to summon a spirit that had passed on.' I thought we were merely going to be able to communicate with it. We were hoping to become more enlightened about the immortal world by one who is actually there. None of my coven possesses the great gift you have."
"Your coven?"
"Simona, Gisela, myself, and ten others."
"Thirteen? Isn't that the number favored by practitioners of the dark arts."
"Actually, only three of us had any real power."
"Yes, that's consistent with covens involved in the dark arts. Three powerful witches direct their energy through the group as a whole, using the ten lesser members to help focus the spells."
"Witchcraft is not a dark art, Madam Arlene. There is no worship of the devil or any other evil deity in the craft. I admit that some witches occasionally use their power to harm others, just as a businessman might use his company's powerful position in a marketplace to crush competitors or a politician might use his political or Wall Street connections to destroy an opponent. Not all witches are nice people, but returning the demon to Earth was simply an honest mistake."
"When did you release him?"
"Eleven years ago. Simona was his first victim."
"There have been others?"
"We believe the number to be considerable— perhaps in the high hundreds."
"Hundreds? How can he kill if he has no body?"
"He temporarily invades the body of a living person, taking complete control of their mind and limbs."
"I know spirits from the immortal world can project themselves into the body of a medium, but they can't maintain it for long. It tires them too quickly."
"But this demon is already on this plane of existence and has knowledge accrued on the other side. He can maintain his control substantially longer. When he finally leaves the host to rest, they have no recollection of the atrocious deeds the demon performed while possessing their body."
"There must be some way to stop him, to send him back to the Underworld."
"The only way to send him back is for those who released him to banish him again."
"By those who released him, you mean your coven?"
"Yes."
"Then what have you been waiting for? Banish him."
"It's not as easy as it sounds. We have tried. It was following the first attempt to banish him that he killed Simona. We think he feared we might succeed."
"Why did he only kill Simona? Surely that wouldn't prevent you from trying again."
"We've learned that he can only continue to walk among mortals while those who freed him remain alive. If he had killed all of us, he would have been returned to the Underworld immediately. The amount of power possessed by the coven as a whole is in direct relationship to his strength. Each death of a coven member robs him of power and permanently weakens him. Since Simona was such a powerful witch, I'm sure he felt substantially weakened by her death or he would have already slain Gisela and myself. Her death must have affected him significantly because he didn't kill anyone for months after that. If my death alone would send him back, I would gladly sacrifice myself. But I can't ask that of the others. Most have families and small children."
"But why did he select Simona?" Arlene asked.
"To banish a demon, the incantation must be read by an ancient one," Madam Elana said. "Simona had the oldest and strongest spirit among our coven. Gisela was able to trace her past lives back to the very early 1700's. I think the demon decided he had nothing to fear from the rest of us with Simona gone."
"But Simona's power was like a mere infant— a newborn— compared to yours," Gisela said. "You are so much more powerful than she ever was or ever would have been."
"When we learned that her remains had been located as the result of a phone call from a spiritualist," Madam Elana said, "I used my contacts to learn your name and then looked into your background."
"There seems to be a lot of that going around."
"What?"
"Nothing. Please continue."
"I discovered that you published a book under a nom-de-plume. I was curious, so I purchased a copy. Since it was listed as fiction, I suspected you might have written it using research information you gathered as a result of communing with spirits. I didn't know until today that it was autobiographical."
"Was it?" Arlene asked, noncommittally.
Madam Elana smiled. "Even our coven members don't really know the extent of Gisela's gift, but I can assure you it's formidable. When you shook hands outside the morgue, she got a good look at your past lives. You and your friends really were pulled back in time to provide a life force for the bodies of four young women who had perished. You don't have to be coy with us, Madam Arlene; we know the truth. But we won't reveal it to outsiders. Like most people who are different, we know the value and necessity of keeping secrets."
"As far as that particular secret is concerned, I doubt anyone would believe you. Even my own family doesn't believe it. That's understandable, and I certainly don't hold it against them."
"You need not search for doubt here, Madam Arlene," Gisela said. "We know the truth."
"Just what is it you sense when you touch someone?" Arlene asked.
"I see all sorts of images in my head, such as who or what the person desires, what they've dreamed about lately, and important events from their past lives, if any."
"You can actually see images from their past lives?" Arlene asked Gisela, remembering her trembling, wide-eyed stare.
"Oh, yes. Most people can only recall incidents from within their current lifespan because those memories are stored in their conscious and subconscious mind. But their mind also contains their soul and everything they've witnessed since they were first born . I can see into their conscious, subconscious, and their soul."
"Do most people have past lives?"
"Od
dly enough, very few have had past lives. I suppose the overwhelming majority of spirits are content to remain in the immortal world once they've crossed over. They're finally free of all the angst, pain, and suffering present in this world. Of those few who do have past lives, they usually have just one or two, certainly not anything even remotely like your history. And with most people, images from past lives only come through as vague and fuzzy recollections. Some of yours were so real, so vivid, that I was completely overcome. Um— by any chance do you know how old you are?"
"Of course. I'm twenty-one."
Gisela giggled. "No, I mean how old you are, not just this body your soul is currently occupying."
Glancing at Madam Elana and then back to Gisela, Arlene said, "The only other body I've occupied was born in 1864. Until today I believed I'd only had one other life."
"You only remember the one other life," Madam Elana said, "because it happened within the lifetime of this body. When a spirit wishes to leave the immortal world to be reborn on Earth, the conscious mind of the new body has no recollection of past lives. As Gisela said, those memories remain sealed within your eternal soul unless someone manages to unlock them. If you wish, and Gisela agrees, she might be able to put you in touch with many of those memories."
"I have occasionally had dreams of living in the far distant past."
"It's no wonder," Gisela said. "With so many memories from so many past lives, I'd be astonished if you hadn't."
"And now, with your help," Madam Elana said, "we'll finally be able to banish the demon."
Arlene stared intently at Madam Elana for a few seconds, then turned and slowly walked a few steps away before turning and coming back to confront her. "You want me to take Simona's place and risk my mortal life in another attempt to banish this demon?"
"We need an ancient one to read the incantation. If there were any other way, I wouldn't ask. Simona only died because she panicked and ran to her car rather than remaining with the coven when the spell didn't work immediately. That's the last time any of us saw her."
When the Spirit Calls (When the Spirit... series - Book 2) Page 6
