When We Touch by Heather Graham

said, introducing them to an elegant, sleek-haired woman in a black tunic who came gliding into the room. She had an exotic look, as if her beauty was a derivative of a not-too-distant ancestor from the Near East.
    â€œGood evening,” the woman said softly.
    â€œAnd Oscar, my control,” Alexander continued.
    An enormous man, bald as Alexander but with a pitch black mustache, entered. He nodded to them all, and took up a stance by the door, crossing his arms over his chest.
    â€œShall we gather, then?” Jane suggested softly.
    â€œWould you have us any special way?” the Duchess asked anxiously.
    â€œThe spirits will come where they will!” Jane said, her voice ethereal.
    Maggie glanced at Mireau. At least they weren’t arranged in any special order. Then again, that might just be to make the appearance of anything happening all the more real.
    The table was arranged for six. Jane and Adrian Alexander sat opposite from one another. There was a plain black cloth on the table with a single candle in the center. “Wherever you will, friends,” he said.
    Maggie sat next to Alexander. Mireau seemed pleased enough to sit next to the exotic Jane. So far, they hadn’t been seated in any particular order, and they hadn’t been offered anything to drink that might have been laced with an hallucinogenic. Adrian Alexander was good at appearing entirely legitimate.
    Across the table, the Duchess was seated on Alexander’s other side. The Irishman, Riley, was between her and Jane.
    â€œNow . . . Oscar, the lights, please.”
    Oscar turned off the gas lamps overhead. The room was pitched into darkness. A faint glow gave an orange cast to the area of the hearth; the single candle burned on the table, affording just a whisper of light.
    â€œWe will all hold hands atop the table, please,” Adrian Alexander said. He had a booming voice, and yet it seemed filled with gentle authority.
    They all obeyed.
    â€œAre you ready, Adrian?” Jane asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAdrian, you must clear your mind. Sit back. Let all that troubles your mind slip away; let all that brings tension to your limbs be eased. Watch the flame as it brings its light to the darkness, watch it, focus on it, feel it. Feel the warmth bring to you the comfort and ease that are present when the mind is freed. Sit back and feel the warmth, see the light, know the comfort. Watch the flame and rest, rest . . . let go of this world, and open yourself to the next.”
    Jane’s voice was certainly one of the best Maggie had ever heard. Soft and fluid, like flowing water. There was power in that voice, definitely. Mireau’s eyes were half closed as he stared at the flames. Marian, Duchess of Chesney, seemed nearly in a trance herself.
    Adrian Alexander had been staring into the flames. He slumped forward suddenly, his eyes closed.
    â€œAdrian, can you hear me?” Jane asked softly.
    â€œYes.”
    He straightened. It seemed that his eyes had rolled back into his head, that they were white now. Maggie felt a chill herself, and was stunned.
    â€œAre you alone, Adrian?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWho is with you?”
    â€œMany . . . I am in the tunnel, the hall . . . the light is ahead of me. Others move with me.”
    â€œWhere are you moving to?” Jane’s voice was clear, and yet it never rose above a whisper.
    â€œThe light . . . we all seek the light.”
    â€œWho are the people with you?”
    â€œThe recently . . . dead.”
    The chill shot right into Maggie’s heart. She was amazed at how eerie and frightening the room had become.
    â€œIt’s cold. So cold . . . and that is why we seek the light.”
    Cold wind suddenly seemed to blow in. The windows were closed.
    â€œThere are those here seeking loved ones. Can you help them tonight?”
    â€œSpeak. Those who would talk, must speak.”
    â€œMay I?” the Duchess whispered