but it’s not the same, is
it?
“ If you can’t remember,
then maybe you aren’t supposed to,” I continued gently. “Maybe
those last moments are repressed, and I won’t push you. But, Smith,
I’m not going to stop looking for answers. Stephen thinks you
abandoned him. You can’t let him think that. I know I
can’t.”
I put the planchette on the board, the
triangular piece of wood pointed and ready. “I won’t ask you
anything. Just tell me whatever you think I should know.”
He’d calmed, but a feeling
of purpose stole over him. As he reached over the counter his
movements were quick, fluid, and totally unnatural.
“ Don’t point!” I
complained, my eyes flashing. “I’m supposed to do it.”
It was a long process,
moving the planchette around the letters until Smith stopped me
with a feeling, but it was worth it. Not only did it sharpen Smith
up a bit, but it sharpened up my skills as well, helping me key
into the subtler of emotions. That was not why I insisted on
communicating the long, drawn out way though. I insisted because I
enjoyed it. It was the only time that seeing ghosts felt
fun.
S-T-O-L-E-T-A-P-E
He had a sense of fulfillment, the message
complete.
“ You died over petty
theft?”
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“Ignore it,” I said as the phone shrilled in
its cradle.
T-O-P-R-O-T-E-C-T
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“ Keep going,” I ground
out, thinking the person wouldn’t dare try a third time.
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“ Just point,” I growled
after throwing the planchette at the phone. But he never got the
chance.
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“ Damn it!” I ripped the
phone up off the desk. “ What! ” I bit into the
receiver.
“ Hello, Miss Graves. Did I
catch you at a bad time?”
It was Reed Wallace. Of
course it was.
“ It’s always a bad time
when you call,” I spit back, still seething. Smith had taken the
interruption as a reprieve, drifting out the door without a second
thought. “What the hell do you mean by calling four
times?”
“ I knew you were at work,
and, believe it or not, was worried when you didn’t pick
up.”
Again, I wanted to label
him stalker, but I wore the Tibetan ring willingly and nothing
could induce me to remove it, so I forewent the insult. Instead
muttering, “What do you want?”
“Just to touch base—”
I stopped listening to him
as the door was thrust open. Francesca strolled through, her smile
bright as the light limning her from behind.
“ Nothing new to report,” I
hurried to say. “ Do not call back.”
Francesca was standing
over the counter before I even set the phone down. I was totally
flustered as she flicked Missy’s ramen noodles with a disdainful
finger, her eyes widening as she spotted the Ouija board under my
elbows.
“ What have you been
doing?”
What indeed. Where did I
even begin? I was far too upset over all the secrets I was keeping
from her to do little more than shrug. I could hardly tell her I
was in contact with Reed, so it was a relief that she didn’t
mention my hurried hang up. But how the hell was I going to explain
the Ouija board?
Lucky me, I didn’t have
to. Francesca was practically bursting with news, and so, with a
cursory sweep of her eyes she dismissed everything to more swiftly
deliver the news. “I want to visit the Parlor,” she said. “For
guidance. I need a reading about Conner, things are getting
serious. He asked me to marry him.”
Chapter 12
“ I don’t think I’m going
to say yes, but imagine the dress I could get from Botticelli’s,”
Francesca prattled as she drove us toward the Parlor. “I’m thinking
ivory, white is just so bright, almost garish really. But I’m
probably not going to say yes.”
I’d tried to escape this
trip, citing work as my excuse, but of course Francesca had already
enlisted Stephen’s help and he’d been waiting to take over at the
front desk.
My problem was secrets: I
had too many of them. As my best friend Francesca should
it?
“ If you can’t remember,
then maybe you aren’t supposed to,” I continued gently. “Maybe
those last moments are repressed, and I won’t push you. But, Smith,
I’m not going to stop looking for answers. Stephen thinks you
abandoned him. You can’t let him think that. I know I
can’t.”
I put the planchette on the board, the
triangular piece of wood pointed and ready. “I won’t ask you
anything. Just tell me whatever you think I should know.”
He’d calmed, but a feeling
of purpose stole over him. As he reached over the counter his
movements were quick, fluid, and totally unnatural.
“ Don’t point!” I
complained, my eyes flashing. “I’m supposed to do it.”
It was a long process,
moving the planchette around the letters until Smith stopped me
with a feeling, but it was worth it. Not only did it sharpen Smith
up a bit, but it sharpened up my skills as well, helping me key
into the subtler of emotions. That was not why I insisted on
communicating the long, drawn out way though. I insisted because I
enjoyed it. It was the only time that seeing ghosts felt
fun.
S-T-O-L-E-T-A-P-E
He had a sense of fulfillment, the message
complete.
“ You died over petty
theft?”
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“Ignore it,” I said as the phone shrilled in
its cradle.
T-O-P-R-O-T-E-C-T
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“ Keep going,” I ground
out, thinking the person wouldn’t dare try a third time.
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“ Just point,” I growled
after throwing the planchette at the phone. But he never got the
chance.
Ring . Ring . Ring .
“ Damn it!” I ripped the
phone up off the desk. “ What! ” I bit into the
receiver.
“ Hello, Miss Graves. Did I
catch you at a bad time?”
It was Reed Wallace. Of
course it was.
“ It’s always a bad time
when you call,” I spit back, still seething. Smith had taken the
interruption as a reprieve, drifting out the door without a second
thought. “What the hell do you mean by calling four
times?”
“ I knew you were at work,
and, believe it or not, was worried when you didn’t pick
up.”
Again, I wanted to label
him stalker, but I wore the Tibetan ring willingly and nothing
could induce me to remove it, so I forewent the insult. Instead
muttering, “What do you want?”
“Just to touch base—”
I stopped listening to him
as the door was thrust open. Francesca strolled through, her smile
bright as the light limning her from behind.
“ Nothing new to report,” I
hurried to say. “ Do not call back.”
Francesca was standing
over the counter before I even set the phone down. I was totally
flustered as she flicked Missy’s ramen noodles with a disdainful
finger, her eyes widening as she spotted the Ouija board under my
elbows.
“ What have you been
doing?”
What indeed. Where did I
even begin? I was far too upset over all the secrets I was keeping
from her to do little more than shrug. I could hardly tell her I
was in contact with Reed, so it was a relief that she didn’t
mention my hurried hang up. But how the hell was I going to explain
the Ouija board?
Lucky me, I didn’t have
to. Francesca was practically bursting with news, and so, with a
cursory sweep of her eyes she dismissed everything to more swiftly
deliver the news. “I want to visit the Parlor,” she said. “For
guidance. I need a reading about Conner, things are getting
serious. He asked me to marry him.”
Chapter 12
“ I don’t think I’m going
to say yes, but imagine the dress I could get from Botticelli’s,”
Francesca prattled as she drove us toward the Parlor. “I’m thinking
ivory, white is just so bright, almost garish really. But I’m
probably not going to say yes.”
I’d tried to escape this
trip, citing work as my excuse, but of course Francesca had already
enlisted Stephen’s help and he’d been waiting to take over at the
front desk.
My problem was secrets: I
had too many of them. As my best friend Francesca should
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