The mansion was enormous and a little frightening. Maybe it was the foggy San Francisco evening, but it looked spooky, like Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion on steroids or the truly disturbing Winchester House in San Jose. Her nerves were definitely starting to get the better of her. She really needed to stop watching the Discovery Channel.
They were ushered into a large foyer where several servants helped them with their hats and coats. The butler then led them to a huge set of double doors.
“Your names, sir?”
“Sir Simon Cross and Miss Elizabeth West.”
Simon was completely at ease, but she felt a little like Julia Roberts out on a date with Richard Gere. She tried not to fidget and swallowed a nervous laugh. Simon held out his arm and whispered reassurances in her ear.
“Right. Courage, Camille.” She picked up her train and took his arm when she realized that she’d completely forgotten to ask him about his sudden title. “Sir Simon?”
He shrugged. “Just a minor baronetcy.”
Amazing. She wasn’t even sure what a baronetcy was, but she was pretty sure there was nothing minor about it. How could he be so nonchalant about it all? “And I suppose you have a castle too.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“There is a family estate, but—”
The butler opened one of the doors and stood back. “Sir Simon Cross and Miss Elizabeth West.”
They entered the large, lavish parlor. The entire room was paneled in a rich, deep mahogany and candled chandeliers gave off a warm yellow glow. A string quartet played something classical from their spot on the far side of the room. Victor Graham, looking smart and very at home in his tuxedo, excused himself from a small group of his other guests and greeted them. Elizabeth introduced Simon, stumbling over his title.
About a dozen guests dressed to the nines, tens and elevens, enjoyed cocktails and chatted. All of them greeted her with what seemed to be genuine smiles and compliments. Simon was quickly pulled away to explain what it was like to be a baronet. She’d love to hear that herself. She was herded into a circle of ladies talking about the upcoming opera. Simon had tried to introduce her to opera. She’d fallen asleep in their box. She was more Pal Joey than Puccini.
She smiled, nodded and small talked with the ladies at the party. But no matter how hard she tried, she still felt like a stranger in a very strange land until she heard a friendly voice.
“Peanut?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Teddy!” Elizabeth blurted out a bit too loudly. She was so relieved to see a familiar face; she’d let a little too much Texas out. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I didn’t realize you were close to the Grahams.”
Teddy tucked his little brown sack of peanuts into his jacket pocket and brushed a straggler off his lapel. “I’m not.”
“But you were at the other party and this looks pretty exclusive.”
“Oh, it is!” he said with a bright smile. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t rich though.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh. Teddy’s unfiltered honesty was so refreshing. “Graham hitting you up for an investment?”
Teddy nodded. “But you’re here because you’re wonderful.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
He ducked his head. “I would.”
“Would what?” Simon said appearing at their side.
Like a rabbit seeing a hunter, Teddy fidgeted in place for a second and then tried to make a quick escape. Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “Teddy, I’d like you to meet, Simon—Sir Simon Cross. Simon, this is Teddy Fiske.”
Simon stuck out his hand. “Fiske.”
Without looking up, Teddy’s head bobbed and shook Simon’s hand with one quick pump. “Hi.”
“Teddy’s the one I was telling you about. He has a photographic memory.”
“Eidetic,” Teddy said. “From the Greek eidos, something seen. It’s not technically photographic.”
She’d warned Simon about Teddy’s eccentricity, but Teddy was something that had to experience firsthand to be fully understood. She prayed Simon did.
“I stand corrected,” Simon said politely.
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 hardy.
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 asl
eep 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 lied 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.”
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