by Craig, Emma
“Oh, yes, and I’m so glad you could come. My friends and I have been dying to meet you and to begin the séance!”
“Apt phrasing,” Sophie murmured, but Mrs. Millhouse didn’t hear her.
Gabriel dug his elbow into her ribs again in a vain effort to get her to stop being sarcastic. She didn’t so much as look at him, but spoke to Mrs. Millhouse. “Please allow me to introduce you to our party, Mrs. Millhouse. This is my aunt, Juniper Madrigal.”
Sophie presented Aunt Juniper with impressive formality and clear fondness. Gabriel almost forgave her for being sarcastic earlier.
“How do you do?” Mrs. Millhouse shook Juniper’s hand.”We’ve heard so much about you and the Madrigal family, Miss Madrigal.”
Juniper, every bit as elegant as Mrs. Millhouse, although not so expensively clad, smiled and bubbled something Gabriel didn’t catch. It was interesting to watch the Madrigals work, because they complemented each other perfectly. Juniper was everybody’s friend and companion; Sophie was above them all. Both poses were absolutely appropriate to their line of work, and created an impression that wasn’t easily forgotten.
“And I am Sophie Madrigal,” Sophie went on. She towered above the tiny Mrs. Millhouse, but she didn’t look at all awkward. In truth, she looked regal and made Mrs. Millhouse, who would, Gabriel thought, normally be considered small and dainty, appear inconsequential, as if she might be swatted like a troublesome fly and thus removed from the splendid Sophie’s majestic orbit.
“It’s so wonderful to meet the two of you. I’ve heard such wonderful things about your work. I think your work is wonderfully interesting.” Mrs. Millhouse could almost rival Juniper in the twittering and bubbling arenas, although she seemed kind of silly as she did it. Juniper had never, not since that first day in the Laredo train station, appeared silly. It occurred to Gabriel to wonder how she managed it. It was probably natural. She possessed a larger vocabulary than Mrs. Millhouse, too.
“And this,” Sophie continued, not allowing anybody’s twitters or bubbles to waylay her, “is our very good friend and companion, Dmitri Sokolov. He is a great help to us in our work.”
The way she said it cast all sorts of mysterious connotations onto the word work, as if they might be in the habit of conjuring any number of ghosties and phantasms in the course of a typical day and, perhaps, Dmitri was used to corral them or something. Gabriel hid his smile behind his hand with a pretended cough.
“Charmed,” Mrs. Millhouse said. After hesitating for a moment, she held her hand out to Dmitri. The latter, however, clicked his boot heels together and bowed, looking for the first time in Gabriel’s association with him, every inch a Russian. More than every inch, actually, since he was so short.
Mrs. Millhouse, disconcerted by Dmitri’s performance, muttered, “Oh, my.”
Sophie turned next to Gabriel. He was curious as to how she aimed to introduce him. “And, this,” she said without the tiniest hint of discomposure, “is our friend and associate, Mr. Gabriel Caine. Mr. Caine,” she continued, directing a frosty smile at Gabriel, “has been learning the mystical arts from my aunt, and he sometimes assists us in our work.” She didn’t say how.
Gabriel shook Mrs. Millhouse’s hand and murmured, “Very pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He used his best, revival-tent, southern-gentleman manners on her, and she blushed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie grimace and cast her gaze to the ceiling in disgust.
“Oh, Mr. Caine, I’m so pleased—it’s so wonderful—oh, we just can’t wait!” And with that, Mrs. Millhouse took off down the hall at a trot.
After glancing at each other, the Madrigal party set off after her, perceiving this as their duty. It turned out they were correct in their perception. Gabriel was interested to note that their hostess led them to a formal dining room. Nine exquisitely dressed women sat around an enormous table. Gabriel guessed the fashionable ladies of Los Angeles didn’t have a whole lot of useful work to do, then chided himself for being damned near as cynical as Sophie was. The first faint glimmer of understanding as to how Sophie had developed her pungent side slithered into his heart.
“I hope this room is all right,” Mrs. Millhouse twittered.”It’s the only room with a large-enough table.”
“It is ample.”
Actually, it was gigantic. Gabriel suspected a party of fifty could dine at it if all the leaves were added. He caught Sophie’s eye briefly, and was relieved to see humor gleaming therein. She never disappointed him.
She didn’t disappoint him during the séance, either. Dmitri, after setting a red-globed oil lamp in the middle of the table and lighting the wick, took a chair in a corner of the room, as if he were going to oversee the goings-on. Juniper and Sophie sat at the head of the table, and Sophie directed Gabriel to sit at the table’s foot. From this vantage point, he had a perfect view of the breathtaking Sophie’s truly remarkable bosom as she presided over the séance.
Sophie did the presiding-over, too. Gabriel had half-expected Juniper to be the main focus of the evening. He’d imagined she’d be the medium through whom the spirit spoke—he could hardly believe he was thinking these things—but she wasn’t. Sophie dominated the entire evening.
And what a presence she was. Gabriel was more impressed than he’d dare admit, at least to her. Not only did she appear beautiful and aristocratic in all of her bounteous splendor, but she bore herself with an aura he’d never seen her display before. Perfect control were the words Gabriel settled on to describe her demeanor. If he hadn’t met her before this evening, he would have presumed her to be an ice princess, merely condescending to visit these earthly planes and share her wisdom for a brief time before returning to her true domain in some mystical kingdom beyond the reaches of mortal man.
It took Mrs. Millhouse quite a few minutes to settle in at the table. She flitted and darted about the room, speaking to her guests and asking questions. At last, though, she sank into the chair next to Sophie, on her right. She appeared nervous, in spite of the kindly look Sophie bestowed upon her. Or maybe because of it.
If so stately a being as Sophie had gifted him with such a smile, Gabriel’s guard would have shot up in expectation of a knife in the back or something. Mrs. Millhouse, obviously a more innocent specimen of humankind than Gabriel, only blushed once more.
Sophie spoke. “It’s time to still our hearts and voices, so that the spirits may be heard.” The words were spoken mildly, as if she were only offering a suggestion, but they had the effect of making everyone in the room start slightly, go still, and stare at her. She smiled at them. “Thank you. My aunt, Juniper Madrigal, will now commence the séance.”
When the last rustle of nervousness and anticipation had subsided, Juniper spoke. “We are very happy to be here tonight, and to offer ourselves as a conduit to the celestial plane, to the spirit world that exists on what we call the Other Side of life.” Her voice, which Gabriel had always thought of as light and pleasant, seemed to be absorbing and reflecting the atmosphere in the room. It sounded slightly enigmatic this evening. Interesting.
“If you will please join hands,” Juniper said.
Gabriel found himself suddenly seized on either side by barehanded women. Since he knew it was proper for proper ladies to wear gloves, he assumed they’d been instructed ahead of time to remove them. Evidently the spirits couldn’t travel through kidskin. He told himself to stop being derisive, or he’d rival Sophie in no time at all.
“Our assistant, Dmitri, will turn off the electrical lights,” Juniper continued. “We will then be left with only the one red lamp on the table. The red lamp, as you may know, will serve as a soft medium through which spirits can arrive.”
Hmmm. Red lamps, eh? Red lights were used in other professions, too, although Gabriel was pretty sure Juniper wouldn’t know about that. Sophie would. He’d bet on it.
Whatever the function of the red lamp, the glow it cast on Sophie almost made his mouth water. Her fair skin took on a tawny cast, her hair g
leamed dully, and shadows played on her features, giving her an otherworldly appearance. She looked to him like a fairy princess—a large fairy princess, to be sure. His chest swelled oddly with pride for her. As if he had any business being proud of her. If she knew of his arrogance, she’d certainly slap his face.
He watched with rapt attention as the evening progressed, seldom taking his gaze away from Sophie. He heard Juniper’s voice, lullingly soft and sweet, and was surprised at how compelling it was. It damned near lulled him into believing what was happening. Juniper’s voice took on the quality of a gentle humming in his ears, and when Sophie’s eyes began to close, it seemed natural for them to do so.
When Sophie’s head drooped slightly forward, he wasn’t surprised. When Sophie spoke, in a sepulchral voice he’d never heard from her before, he started in his chair, and nearly cried out in alarm. He stopped himself in time, thank God, or Sophie would never have forgiven him.
Juniper, her eyes closed as if she were in a mystical trance of her own, whispered, “Is my control here with us?”
Sophie—it didn’t sound like Sophie in the least, but the words came out of her mouth—said, “I am here.”
Sweet Jesus, that voice made Gabriel’s skin crawl. His respect for the Madrigals soared. They were damned good at this nonsense. He shuddered and wished their performance weren’t so blasted potent.
“You are the Princess Sabrahar?”
“I am she.”
Gabriel felt the oddest compulsion to rush over to Sophie and shake her, thereby dislodging the spirit that had taken over her body. He knew he was being stupid. This was an act. He told himself so at least a hundred times before the séance concluded, and he ended up not quite believing himself.
“Thank you, Princess Sabrahar, for deigning to visit with us tonight.”
Sophie inclined her head as if in condescension.
“There is someone with us tonight,” Juniper went on, “who desires to establish contact with a dear one now existing on the Other Side. Are you able to see into the hearts of those who desire contact this evening?”
“Yes,” intoned Sophie.
Someone—Gabriel couldn’t tell whom—gasped. He couldn’t fault whoever it was, as he felt like gasping himself.
“Philip wishes to assure Amanda that he is waiting for her,” Sophie said in that same crazy toneless spirit voice that made Gabriel’s insides rebel.
“Oh!” cried the woman on Gabriel’s left. “Philip!”
“Amanda,” said Sophie. “Be at rest. I am well. You will join me when the time is right.”
“Oh,” whispered the same woman. “I’m so glad.”
And so it went. Gabriel didn’t have the slightest idea where Sophie had secured the information she used in the séance, but he was positive—almost—that she’d used earthly means. She was good, though. Damned good. Frighteningly good, actually. If he weren’t such a hardened cynic, he might even have believed she was acting as some sort of conduit from earth to heaven—or wherever the Other Side was located. He wasn’t altogether sure he wanted to know.
The séance lasted almost an hour, and when it concluded with Sophie’s supposed spirit possessor leaving her body and hieing itself off to parts unknown, Sophie sagged in her chair, as if debilitated by the experience. Gabriel had to curb a mad urge to leap out of his chair, race over to her, and hold her in his arms until she recovered. Damn, she was good.
The lights went on all of a sudden, making everyone at the table, including Gabriel, but excluding Juniper and Sophie, jump a little and blink. Gabriel had forgotten all about Dmitri.
The séance participants glanced avidly around at each other in total silence. Then noise erupted like a volcano in the room.
Since he perceived no reason to remain in his chair, Gabriel got up and walked around to Sophie, whose head still lolled strangely. He squinted down at her, wondering if this was part of the act. When she cricked her eyelids open a hair and sparkled up at him, he knew it was. He wanted to pick her up and kiss her in sheer relief.
It took nearly another full hour for the Madrigal party to escape from the stately Millhouse mansion. Mrs. Millhouse and her friends lavished praise upon Juniper and Sophie, and pressed food and drink—and money—upon all of them.
“Thank God,” muttered Sophie, eyeing a plate of caviar on toast points. “I’m starving to death.”
“Being a conduit for spirits whets the old appetite, does it?” Gabriel popped a toast point into his mouth and grinned at her.
“It certainly does.” Sophie smiled, too, as if she enjoyed sharing the joke with him.
Gabriel’s heart went all gooey, and he told himself to stop being stupid. “Who the hell’s Princess Sabrahar?”
She shrugged and sipped champagne. “We liked the name, and it’s sort of neutral, so we use it.”
“Neutral?”
“Oh, you know. It’s not a real name or even a name that might be real. I made it up. I mean, I’d hate it if somebody who spoke, say, German, told us that Sabrahar is a German name and expected me, as the princess, to know German or something.”
“Ah. Clever.”
“As it is, Sabrahar’s supposed to be from ancient Assyria, so I figure we’re safe. Even if we met somebody from Assyria, if there is such a place anymore, he wouldn’t know the ancient tongue.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
There was a particularly devilish light in her eyes that made Gabriel uneasy. He’d been on edge all evening long, knowing as he did that she was up to something. As the party wound down and Mrs. Millhouse herself, in all her expensive glory, saw them to the waiting cab, he braced himself. Whatever Sophie was up to, he anticipated she’d be springing it on him soon.
He didn’t know whether to be elated or scared to death, so he settled for both.
Chapter Fifteen
During the séance, Sophie had been interested to note that she and Gabriel didn’t generate any magical mists or auras. Thank heavens. If the air had begun smelling of orange blossoms and jasmine, or if the mystical incense had fogged the atmosphere, she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to perform as well as she had.
Fortunately, Dmitri had done his advanced scouting to perfection, and unearthed all sorts of juicy tidbits about the séance’s attendees. Sophie had taken it from there. It was all such rot.
Although, she had to admit, there was clearly something unusual about her abilities. And Juniper’s. It was only through long practice that the two of them were able to touch so many people’s hearts so deeply.
However they’d done it, they had done it, and Mrs. Millhouse was as happy as if she had good sense. The séance had gone exceptionally well, but Sophie was anticipating the rest of her evening with mixed feelings. If Emerald Huffy were right, she’d achieve her goal in a very few hours. If she’d been reading Gabriel correctly, any threat he posed to her scheme would have been nullified before that.
Her nerves jumped like live wires, but she didn’t allow her anxious state to show. She knew Gabriel was on edge as well; she’d confused him completely with her coquettish demeanor this evening. She hoped he’d fall into her trap—which is to say, comply with her plan. She was pretty sure any other man in the world would. After all, most men weren’t accustomed to questioning their libidos, and the important element in her evening’s plans was the certain knowledge that he wanted her. He’d made his desire for her obvious on a number of occasions.
“Here we are, ladies and Dmitri,” Gabriel said, startling Sophie out of her musings. “The Melrose Hotel.”
“Ah,” said Juniper, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m ready for bed.”
“Séances always wear you out, Juniper,” Sophie said mildly. “I feel quite perky myself.” She cast a sly glance at Gabriel, making sure he caught it.
“That’s because you’re young, dear. When you’re my age, you’ll find them wearying, I’m sure.” Juniper bestowed a lovely smile upon Gabriel, who helped
her out of the carriage. “Thank you very much.”
Gabriel smiled and nodded. Sometimes he was so much the well-mannered southern gentleman, Sophie almost believed the pose herself.
“I’m sure you’re right, Juniper,” she agreed. She bent at the waist as she edged out of the cab, hoping in that way to expose as much of her bosom as possible to Gabriel’s eyes. From the expression on his face and the convulsive way he swallowed when she stood next to him on the drive outside the Melrose, she’d succeeded. It was the first time in her life she’d been glad she was well endowed.
Neither Juniper nor Dmitri noticed the play between Sophie and Gabriel. Sophie hoped they’d remain oblivious until she’d fulfilled her purpose. Beyond that point, actually, or she’d be quite embarrassed. To Dmitri, she said, “I’ll see you in a little while.”
The small man nodded and assisted Juniper up the steps of the hotel. The Melrose’s lobby blazed with lights, although it was past eleven. While Los Angeles was no New York City, and certainly slept sometimes, Sophie was glad to note that it didn’t roll up the streets at dusk. She needed some nightlife in order to accomplish her aims for the evening.
She gazed straight at Gabriel. “Would you care to have a drink before retiring, Gabriel?”
He squinted at her as if he didn’t trust this new act of hers. She held her breath, praying he wouldn’t decline her invitation.
After a moment, he said, “Sure. Why not?” and Sophie would have breathed a sigh of relief except she didn’t want him to be any more suspicious than he already was.
“I believe there’s a bar in the Melrose,” she murmured. If they stayed in the hotel, the last part of her plan would be easier to accomplish than if she had to get back here from another hotel.
“You’re up to something,” he said.
Sophie made her eyes go wide in startled innocence—at least that’s what she was aiming for. “Whatever can you mean? I only want to have a friendly drink before going to bed. What can I be up to?”
