by Megan Hart
Daddy hadn't seen any of my performances. He'd been away for half the year on some case or another, and when he came back to find I'd been turned into some sort of sideshow act, that was the end of it.
Rose pleaded with him, fanning out all the money I'd made that month, but Daddy just snatched up the cash and threw it in her face.
"This is fraud," he told her. "You're forcing her to be a criminal, for God's sakes."
Only Rose didn't see that way. She told Daddy it wasn't fraud because I could actually do it.
I didn't know what to say. I just wanted them to stop fighting. So I told the truth. I said it was fake. It was all fake.
The look on her face... I've never seen such a betrayed look again in my life.
"What about Francis?" She'd started to cry. "What about my baby boy?"
"I made all that up, Mama. I thought you knew."
She slapped me across the face so hard my mouth filled with blood.
"It should have been you," she said. "Francis should be here right now and you should have been the one to die." Then she turned to my father. "Go on. Take her. I never want to see her face again."
And that was that. Daddy took a job opening an office for his agency down in Montgomery. The tutors came again and I found myself happy to be back in the South, even if I did cry myself to sleep most nights thinking of what Rose had said. I checked the mail every day, desperate to find a letter from her apologizing and saying she wanted to come home. But that letter never came.
When we accepted this job, I honestly didn't expect her to still be here in town. That was so many years ago, after all. I wish...
Well, enough of the maudlin. What's done is done. I have to get dressed for dinner anyhow. You run along and clean up now, Connie. I'll see you at the séance in a few hours.
7
The first to arrive, Rose sat me in the foyer and rushed off to prepare. I'd been in there for several minutes when the girl came in. Still in her white dress and pink ribbon, she looked like she was on her way to an Easter egg hunt.
"Hello again," she said.
I stood. "Hi."
"You're early."
"Nothing else to do."
"That's the truth. This town is dead. Pun intended."
We shared a smile and I was struck by how warm and lovely she was. She was about my age, too, so that definitely didn't hurt.
Glancing around for Rose, she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Want a smoke? I stole a few cigarettes."
"Uh, yeah."
Grabbing our coats, I followed her outside and around back to a clump of trees. She led me into the thick of them where two rusty chairs sat hidden from view.
"Applesauce," she said. "I forgot the matches."
I pulled a matchbook from my pocket and her eyes went wide.
"I could kiss you." She snatched them from me.
"I wish you would." My cheeks instantly grew warm and I regretted saying it.
She smiled and lit two cigarettes, reaching over and slipping one tenderly between my lips.
A slight cough. "Rough,” she said. “You must be an old pro at this."
"Where I grew up, if you hadn't had a cigarette by the age of nine, something was wrong with you."
"And where's that?"
I waved it off, not wanting to let her know I spent most of my life picking pockets and digging through trash for food. "What about you?" I asked. "What are you doing here? How do you know Rose?"
She stared at me for long enough that I thought I'd made some kind of faux pas. Then she laughed. "You don't recognize me?"
Her eyes did look familiar, but I was sure I'd never seen her before today. "No. Should I?"
"I'm glad you don't. I don't get many chances for this."
"For smoking?"
"For being a kid." She smiled again and my heart skipped a beat. "For being a girl."
Not sure what she meant, I simply puffed away on the cigarette.
“The only time I really get to myself is at night. After everyone has gone to sleep, I slip out and go for a walk.”
“Young girl like you, isn’t that dangerous?”
“I didn’t used to think so.”
The back door clanged open and Rose called out: "Time to get ready!"
"Coming!" She stood and, dropping her cigarette to the ground, crushed it beneath her heel. Turning to me, she whispered, "I need to get changed."
"For what?"
She shook her head like I was the stupidest person she'd ever met.
Then she leaned over and, cradling my face between her hands, pressed her lips to mine. They were warm and soft, the rough taste of cigarette smoke rolling into my mouth. An electric tingle flooded through me, warming me in the cold November night. My arms went limp and the cigarette slipped from my hand. I was lost in her, the world ceasing to exist around me, and I prayed it would never end.
That was my first kiss, the kiss by which I've judged all others throughout life, and, eighty years later, its power still holds.
She pulled away and spun, running through the night and out of view. I heard the door open and close again and still I sat, unable to move, not even caring about the cigarette burning out beneath me. All I could do was grin. If anyone had come upon me right then, I would have looked like a blithering idiot.
Persephone and Simon stood in the foyer when I went back inside. Simon had been whispering something to her and she laughed before shushing him.
"Behave," she said and gently slapped his chest. "Connie. Nice of you to finally arrive." She looked around. "Are the parents here yet?"
"I don't think so."
"Poor things." She sighed and opened her purse. "As fresh as this is for them, I suppose it would be good taste for me to wait until they've gone before I point out all the tricks used tonight." She rummaged around in her bag until she found a mint and handed it to me. "Your breath smells like a tobacco field. Really, Connie."
Blushing, I popped the mint in my mouth.
Persephone paced back and forth through the foyer, stopping to look at a vase or a gourd or a framed illustration of Gallow's Grove. It took me a moment to realize she was anxious. I'd so rarely seen her in that state, but she'd been off-kilter ever since Sir Doyle first mentioned this town. I'm sure the idea of sitting across a table from a sister she'd never met before today had fried her nerves.
A knock at the door brought her to a standstill. Rose slipped into the foyer and glanced at Persephone before answering it. The Ennis couple stepped in, eyes wide to see the three of us.
"Good evening," Rose said. "I'm sorry tonight's séance must take place under these circumstances. As discussed, my daughter Persephone and her assistant will be joining us. Persephone, this is Don and Mary Ennis."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Seph said.
"Thank you," Mary muttered, her eyes looking raw. She'd likely been crying all day.
"And," Rose went on, "you know the mayor, of course."
"Mr. Mayor." Don shook his hand.
"My sympathies," Simon said.
Don turned to Persephone. "I know this must seem strange to you, us demanding a séance the same day our daughter was..." He couldn't finish that.
"Not at all," Seph said. "I completely understand."
"Shall we?" Rose opened the doors to the parlor.
The room dark, candles lit around the walls, I thought for a moment the table was a tombstone. Carved from some dark wood, its circular shape had been decorated with symbols. It wasn't until we were seated around it, Persephone on one side of me and Mary the other, that I realized they were letters.
The alphabet had been carved into the wood, white paint filling the grooves each letter made. They were in some kind of scrambled order I couldn't decipher, things like "B" next to "V" and "O" next to "A." On either end of the table, the words "YES" and "NO" almost beamed, while the word "HELLO" was etched in front of an empty seat I assumed would be used by Madame Nephthys.
Looking straight down, the
word "GOOD BYE" glared up at me as though I'd been commanded to leave. I shifted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable.
Rose took her place at the table across from Simon. "The table before you is a spirit board. It's modeled on the table used by Queen Elizabeth's court sorcerer, a man named John Dee. Dee was renowned for regularly communicating with the Heavenly Host. The table was one of many tools he used to decipher Enochian, the language of Heaven. This table was carved to the exact specifications that Dee gave. The wood itself is oak taken from a massive tree that grew in a cemetery outside of Prague. The earth there had been brought back from the Holy Land during the Crusades and every soul interred within had been a priest, nun, monk, or Crusader knight in life. This wood itself is thus holy and radiates the resonance of death. During the séance, it will help us to channel the spirit of Caitlin Ennis."
Mary Ennis moaned at the mention of her daughter. Her husband placed a hand atop hers and squeezed.
"When the séance begins, we will each link hands. Whatever happens, do not let go of the hand next to you. Do not call out or otherwise interrupt. Madame Nephthys will instruct you as to when you may ask questions. Until that time please remain silent. Mary, have you brought what I asked for?
Mary nodded and, sniffing back tears, pulled an envelope from her purse. "A clipping from her first hair cut is in there. Her baby teeth, too."
"And the photograph," Don said. "Don't forget the photograph."
"Thank you for sending it over earlier," Rose said and stepped over to a side table. She grabbed a dark frame about the size of a book cover and stood it in the center of the spirit board.
Caitlin smiled inside of the photograph, her hair done up and eyes sparkling. What everyone had said was true: she was angelic.
Rose placed the envelope beside it. "Persephone, before we begin, would you like to examine the table?"
Persephone looked to Mary. "Do you mind?"
Don nodded. Mary did nothing.
There was no skirt, nothing to hide any kind of wires or levers beneath the table. I'd found that odd and it seemed Persephone had, too. She leaned over to examine the underside, running her hand along beneath it, her brow furrowed all the while.
"Nothing," she said. "Nothing obvious, at any rate. And the planchette?"
Rose slid a wooden triangle about the size of a large hand over to her. It had three tiny legs, one at each corner, that raised it an inch above the board. Seph turned it over in her hands for a moment before passing it back.
"Satisfied?" Rose asked.
"No," Persephone said. "But we can continue."
Don and Mary exchanged a glance.
"Persephone is here to keep us honest," Rose explained. "Now, if we may begin?"
Everyone nodded.
Rose held a small bell up and rang it twice.
The door in the back of the room opened and Madame Nephthys entered. Dressed again in black head to toe, the veil over her face, she glided through the room and took her place at the table. Examining each of us, she placed her fingers on the planchette.
"Let's begin, shall we?"
8
"Hear me, O spirits," she said, voice powerful and measured. "We gather here today to offer voice to one of you. Caitlin Ennis, your parents have come with sorrow in their hearts for what has befallen you and they ask only that you speak to them. We open ourselves to your presence and use this table as a conduit for you to be heard once more."
Mary Ennis's hand trembled in mine. Head lowered and eyes closed, she sobbed.
The planchette turned, pointing directly to "Hello."
"Caitlin," Madame Nephthys said. "Is that you?"
Silence. A wind rattled the shutters.
"Caitlin?"
The planchette turned again and slid out from under Madame Nephthys's fingers across to "Yes."
Seph's eyes were as wide as mine. She'd done the Ouija board trick at a dozen parties and it never ceased to amaze us how well it always went over. Even if the people playing the game didn't mean to, they always moved the little pointer around the board, subconsciously pushing it toward letters. It helped that the board was smooth and the feet of the planchette tipped in felt. A little nudge was all it ever took.
Yet, here we were. Simon held Persephone's hand, who held mine. I held the hand of Mary Ennis on my left side while she held her husband's hand. Don Ennis held Rose's hand, Rose held the hand of Madame Nephthys, and the medium had Simon's hand in hers.
In other words, the pointer moved without anyone able to it.
I could tell by their faces that everyone but Seph and I had seen this before. We were the only ones shocked by it. And shocked we were. This was beyond the usual tricks and scams. This was impossible.
"We need you to prove that you are Caitlin Ennis," Madame Nephthys said. "Your mother has asked that I mention the horse. What happened with the horse, Caitlin?"
The wind blew harder outside, whistling through the trees, vibrating the very walls.
"The horse, Caitlin. Tell us what happened with the horse."
The pointer slid across the table, stopping for Rose to call out each letter before moving on to the next. It finally stopped moving.
"Colic," Rose concluded.
Mary wailed beside me.
"It's Caitlin," Don said.
"Please," Rose said. "Quiet."
"Her first horse died of colic. It's Caitlin."
"Mr. Ennis."
His wife wailed again.
"Caitlin," Madame Nephthys continued, "your parents wish to speak to you. Is that acceptable?"
Nothing happened for a long while. We all leaned forward, wondering if she had gone. I looked over to Persephone and even she seemed caught up in the act.
Then the pointer shot forcefully to "Yes."
Don Ennis exhaled loudly. "My dearest daughter. We love and miss you so already. We—”
The pointer shot across the table, interrupting him. He went silent as Rose called out the letters.
"I love you, too," Rose said.
They were both crying now.
"Caitlin," her father continued. "Can you tell us who murdered you?"
The planchette moved again, scooting across the board, spinning and circling over and over, frantically searching for something it couldn't find.
Madame Nephthys cleared her throat. "Caitlin, we know this is difficult and emotional, but please. You must calm down and tell us. Once you've told us we can notify the police and your nightmare will be over. You can rest then."
The pointer moved faster, erratically shooting around the table. It collided with the photograph at one point and sent it crashing over, the glass shattering in the frame.
The shutters beat hard against the house and the vibration in the walls spread to our feet, to the table.
"Caitlin," Nephthys pleaded, but still the pointer continued.
A thunderous crash came from the foyer.
"The wind," Rose said. "It blew the front door open. Don't break the circle."
The door to the parlor shook and rattled as though someone tried to break in.
"Stop!" Nephthys yelled.
The pointer came to a halt and the wind died back to a whistle.
"Caitlin," Madame Nephthys said, her voice quivering. "Tell us who killed you."
Nothing.
"Caitlin," she repeated. "Tell us who killed you."
The pointer shifted.
"Caitlin. Please."
It shot across the table, the pointer coming to rest between two letters.
"Caitlin. We must have a name. Who killed you?"
The pointer made a single circle around the table before coming to rest between two letters again.
"She's trying to tell us something," Mary said. "The letters S and C."
It made another rotation before coming to rest a third time between the S and the C.
"She intends it to be there," Rose said.
Sitting directly behind those two letters, directly where the planc
hette pointed, was the mayor.
Simon Carmichael.
SC.
His face had gone pale and he stared down at the planchette.
It backed up and thrust itself forward, again pointing at him.
"I don't know how you're doing this," Persephone said, "but it's not funny."
"It's not meant to be," Madame Nephthys said.
"You?" Mary stood, our hands still in hers. Tears streaked her face but her eyes were steel. "You killed my baby?"
"No," Simon muttered. "You can't... Why would I..."
The planchette shot around the table again, selecting letters in rapid succession.
"P," Rose said. "R. E. G. Oh my God. N. A."
"Enough," Persephone said, her voice weak.
"Pregnant," Rose finished. "Caitlin was pregnant."
The pointer shot to "Yes" before sliding back in front of Simon. Accusing him.
"I could never..." he started.
Seph stood then, too, breaking contact with us.
"Don't break the circle," Rose said.
"Damn your circle!" She snatched up the planchette, examining it again, when Mary Ennis screamed. Caught off guard, Persephone dropped the pointer and it bounced from the table to hit the floor.
Mary pointed to Simon. "I saw her," she said. "Caitlin was right behind him."
We all turned but nothing was there.
"I think we've heard enough," Don Ennis said.
Persephone nodded. "I agree. This absurdity—”
"How dare you, Miss Gale?" His eyes glistened with tears. "How dare you try to interfere? That might be the last time we ever speak to our daughter."
For the first time I'd ever seen, Persephone was speechless.
"Mr. Carmichael," he sneered. "We are marching to collect the police. I'd recommend you remain here."
The mayor looked from them to Rose. Fear on her face, she backed away from the table.
"Come, Mary." Don took his wife's hand and pulled her to the door.
"You monster," she said. "I hope you burn in Hell."
Simon sat there, jaw hanging open, tears filling his own eyes.
Don Ennis stopped in the doorway. "If you're not here when we return, Mr. Carmichael, I swear on my daughter's name that I will hunt you down and butcher you myself."