As for past lives they might have shared, who the hell cared? He couldn’t be held responsible for what some dude back in the tenth or the nineteenth century had done. Even if Schlager conjured up some former lives, who was to say that the doc wasn’t just putting on a magic mirror show for their benefit? Reincarnation? Bullshit!
“If you will each take your place on one of the couches, please.”
Mary Scarlett tugged his sleeve. “Bolt? Are you with us? Helga wants us to lie down. Which couch do you want?”
“Makes no difference,” he muttered.
For the first time, he became aware of the room. He wasn’t sure what he had expected—a crowded, airless cubicle like his childhood bedroom or maybe a dark closet like the one where he had been locked away as punishment when he was a kid. This was far different from either. The walls were done in deep, restful green with matching drapes patterned in swirls of crimson and gold. The furniture was simple, but comfortable looking—twin leather couches, each with a pillow at one end and a light blanket folded neatly at the other, a desk, two chairs. The place looked harmless enough. No electronic torture machines or a video camera with its probing, all-seeing eye.
Bolt flopped down on the couch nearer the windows. “Not bad!” He looked over at Mary Scarlett and forced a broad grin. “Don’t worry, honey. Everything’s going to be fine.” He hoped she couldn’t tell that he was lying through his teeth. None of this was fine with him.
Mary Scarlett picked up on Bolt’s nervousness. She knew he wasn’t happy about this proposed dual hypnotic journey. He obviously hadn’t planned to come along with her into the past. He had said he would be with her all the way, but he hadn’t meant the statement quite so literally.
She reached across the small space separating the couches and took his hand. Her smile matched his—bright, but shaky. “It’ll be okay, Bolt. Really.”
“Indeed it will,” Dr. Schlager echoed as he entered the room and took his place behind the desk.
“Yeah, right!” Bolt mumbled. “You aren’t going to force us to tell all our deepest, darkest secrets, are you, Doc?”
Schlager chuckled, then turned serious. “You have nothing to fear, Conrad. Or you either, Miss Lamar. There will be no force of any sort involved. You will retain your free will at all times. You will say only that which you choose to divulge.”
“Once I’m under, you won’t make me bark like a dog or anything?”
“Bolton! I am shocked you would ask such a question. I am no stage show mesmerist. I am a scientist, an historian, a seeker of truth and knowledge. Calm yourselves now. Close your eyes and try to clear your minds. Only listen to the sound of my voice.”
As they closed their eyes, Helga silently covered each of them with the blankets on their couches. “You will lose body heat under hypnosis,” she explained in a whisper.
Then all sounds faded except for the velvet-smooth voice of Dr. Manfred Schlager. “We are going on a voyage. As with any extended trip by sea there will be smooth sailing at times, but some rough water. Do you wish to be aware of all that happens or would you prefer a state of forgetfulness? I will, of course, tape record each session for future reference.”
“I want to know everything,” Bolt answered. “The smallest details.”
“Yes,” Mary Scarlett agreed in a drowsy voice.
“Very well, then. We shall begin. Relax for a moment. Keep your eyes closed. Feel your bodies losing weight and substance. You are like smoke blowing in the wind. Your minds are quiet, resting. You hear only my voice and it soothes you, comforts you.”
For what seemed like a long time to his two patients, the doctor did not speak. Bolt grew fidgety during the extended silence. Mary Scarlett, however, slipped into a deep state of relaxation. She became aware of the rhythms of her body, the flow of her blood, the quiet beating of her heart. She became the smoke in the wind.
Once Bolt and Mary Scarlett both went perfectly still, Helga tiptoed to the doctor’s chair. She leaned down to whisper into his ear, trying not to break the hypnotic spell. “I think you must know this, Manfred, before you go any further. I have been studying them closely all the while. Now that they are still, I can read their auras clearly. His seems normal enough, but hers is most unusual. There is a dark-shrouded figure hovering over her, some soul who has gone on to the other side.”
“Man or woman?” he asked.
“I cannot tell.”
“Good or evil?”
She shook her head. “Again, I do not know. But I feel that this entity is always with her, an integral part of her aura and her life.”
With a worried frown, Schlager said, “You are right, Helga. This demands exploration before they go back. This spirit could prove a danger to both of them.”
Turning his attention back to Mary Scarlett and Bolt, he instructed, “On the count of three, you will open your eyes. Slowly. You will feel refreshed and happy. Your troubles have blown away with the smoke. You will awake, but remain lying still.”
Both Mary Scarlett and Bolt snapped back to wakefulness the moment they heard Dr. Schlager say, “Three.”
“That wasn’t much of a trip,” Bolt said, starting to rise to a sitting position.
Helga placed her hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him back down.
“Do not rise yet,” the doctor repeated. “Give your body a few moments to regain its equilibrium. As for your journey, this was what we might call a dry run. I needed to know that each of you could be hypnotized before we begin our regression.”
“Well, it didn’t work on me. Sorry, Doc!”
Helga and Dr. Schlager exchanged knowing smiles.
“Perhaps if I hypnotize Helga for you to see, Bolton, then you will understand the technique better. Shall we try it?”
Helga sat down in a large reclining chair, tipped it back, then pulled a thin blanket over her body. “I am ready, Manfred.”
“Are you going to take her back to when you were both on the Wanderer?” Mary Scarlett asked, hoping for a negative answer.
“No, my dear. Don’t worry about that. Actually, this experiment is more for your benefit than for Bolton’s.”
“But I was hypnotized— I think.”
“Indeed you were. You are a most willing and able subject. However, Helga brought something important to my attention while you were under. Are you familiar with the existence of auras, Miss Lamar?”
“I’ve heard of them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, though.”
“Not everyone has the power,” he explained. “Helga is gifted in this area. She has just told me that there is something rather curious about yours.”
“Oh, no!” Mary Scarlett cried, truly distressed. “It’s deformed, isn’t it? That’s why my life is such a mess.”
“Not at all,” Schlager soothed. “Most auras are like rainbows. They are simply formations of light, which signify by their color the sort of energy being released from the body and the soul. However, in your aura Helga sees a shape, a cloaked figure of someone connected to you who has passed over.”
“A man?” Mary Scarlett demanded, thinking instantly of Raul.
“It is difficult to distinguish the sex of a spirit. Is there someone you think it might be?”
Mary Scarlett was trembling. She clutched her arms. Bolt moved quickly to her side and held her. “It’s okay, honey. Take it easy.”
“Bolt, what if it’s Raul? I know it’s him. I told you I’ve been seeing him. No wonder, if he’s in my aura.”
“You also told me you’ve talked to Granny Boo. She watched over you all your life and I’ll bet she’s still at her post.”
“Have no fear,” the doctor said. “Helga will find out for us. Now you must be silent so I can put her under. Once she is hypnotized, she will contact the other side for us and let the spirits speak through her.”
“How does that work?” Bolt wanted to know.
Dr. Schlager scowled at this inte
rruption, but Helga smiled and explained. “It’s like a very long distance phone call. I am the receiver. Manfred will place the call by putting me under hypnosis. Those on the other side will answer.”
“You mean you’ll be able to tune in to this spirit in Mary Scarlett’s aura?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Helga replied. “We have no way of knowing which spirits are present when the channel opens. But whoever responds will be able to give us answers.”
“May we begin now?” Schlager said. “Or is this needless discussion going to go on all night?”
Bolt resisted the urge to ask Helga more questions. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
“You will go deep and deeper, Helga,” the doctor said in an even tone. “Beyond the here and now, on to the other side. You will bring the messages of the spirit world back to us.”
All eyes in the room focused on Helga’s face. Almost instantly, she seemed to fall into a deep sleep. Not the slightest twitch of an eyelid betrayed the fact that she was even alive. Then, slowly, the corners of her mouth curved into a grin.
“Is someone there?” Schlager asked.
“We are four in number.” Helga’s voice when she answered was her own, but slightly deeper—huskier.
“May we know who you are?” the doctor asked.
“I am Teaujac the baker. I was among those who stormed the Bastille,” Helga answered with gruff pride.
Next came a voice as distinctly feminine as Helga’s own, but with an Italian accent. “Signora Sophia Costano, a poor woman of Napoli. I lived with my ten children in a cave near the foot of Vesuvio. We had little except a lovely view of the bay and our love for one another.”
Helga lapsed into silence after the first two spirits spoke.
“The others?” Schlager prompted. “Are they still there?”
The baker’s voice once more issued from Helga’s lips. “One is an infant. He passed over in the great flood, before he learned words to speak. The other is a holy monk from Tibet, Chin Su Singh. He still honors his vows of silence, even here. But he will sign his answers to your questions and I shall pass them along. Advise us with whom we are speaking.”
Schlager quickly complied with Teaujac’s wishes, identifying the four of them and their place and time. Then he added, “You are speaking through my dear friend Helga.”
“And you wish answers to what questions?” the spokesman from the other side asked.
“The entity Mary Scarlett wishes to know in which direction her life should flow.”
“Ask him about her aura,” Bolt hissed in a loud whisper.
“Sh-h!” the doctor cautioned. “We must work up to that. First, we will get some general information.”
Sophia from Napoli answered. “That truth she will find in the mirror. Only there.”
Dr. Schlager turned to Mary Scarlett. “Does that make any sense to you?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so. The only problem is, I don’t know where to find the mirror. It’s missing.”
Bolt shot a glance at the ceiling and called out, “Where is the mirror?”
“They can’t hear you,” Schlager said, annoyed. “They will only respond to questions I put to Helga.”
“Then you ask them where it is,” Bolt demanded.
“Do you know where the entity Mary Scarlett can find this mirror?”
A long silence followed. In her own voice, Helga explained, “They are discussing the matter. It seems they all know exactly which mirror you mean, and they knew its location until very recently.”
“The cupboard is bare,” Helga said in Sophia’s voice after a time.
“The cupboard,” Mary Scarlett whispered excitedly. “This is real! They know what they’re talking about.”
“I’m afraid I’m rather in the dark,” the doctor admitted. “What should I ask them next?”
Mary Scarlett whispered her query into Schlager’s ear. He nodded. “The entity Mary Scarlett wishes to know if it is true that she will see the love of her life in the mirror.”
“The mirror shows only what is true,” answered another female voice—neither Helga’s nor Sophia’s.
“Might I ask your name?” said the doctor.
“I was christened Annie in my most recent existence.” This spirit had a pronounced English accent. “My own love, Will, fashioned that mirror for me. But, alas, I lost both Will and the lovely mirror to another.”
Mary Scarlett gasped. Bolt and Dr. Schlager stared at her.
“You know this woman?” Schlager asked.
“I do.”
“I can back her up on that,” Bolt said. “She told me the story of Annie and Will. They were early settlers right here in Savannah.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve not seen a face in my mirror, Mary Scarlett Lamar. I know better!”
“How could Annie know?” Mary Scarlett whispered to the doctor.
“There is not much they don’t know, my dear.”
“Admit it, Mary Scarlett,” Annie’s spirit persisted. “Tell us the name of the man you saw.”
After a moment, Mary Scarlett whispered, “Jacques St. Julian.”
“We others do not know of him.” Teaujac had returned. “He must be on your side now, on the earthly plane.”
“What is his name now?” Mary Scarlett held her breath as she asked.
Dr. Schlager repeated her question to Helga. Another long silence followed.
“Without the mirror, we cannot say,” Annie answered.
The doctor then posed the question Bolt had been so impatient to ask. “Where can the entity Mary Scarlett find this mirror of truth?”
After a few more moments, Helga said in Teaujac’s voice, “We are confused. We see the mirror, but we cannot tell you where it is at the present time. It seems to be moving with great speed from one place to another.”
“Who has it?” Schlager persisted.
“No one. Many!” Sophia answered, obviously bewildered by her own reply.
In an aside to Mary Scarlett and Bolt, Schlager whispered, “This is highly unusual.”
“Ask them if they can tell us anything about the mirror’s whereabouts,” Bolt insisted.
In answer, Annie said, “It is over the great sea I crossed to come to America.”
“No, over the land,” Teaujac corrected. A babble of different answers ensued, keeping Helga busy.
Finally, Annie came through loud and clear. “A huge bird has it.”
With a sigh and a shrug, the doctor said, “This is getting us nowhere. Obviously, they can’t tell us where it is.”
Bolt had an idea. “That bird Annie mentioned. Could she mean an airplane? That would explain what she said about it being out over the Atlantic. It’s flying, en route to another place.”
The doctor’s eyes lit up. “I think you’ve got it, Conrad!”
“Never mind the mirror for now. Ask them about the person in my aura,” Mary Scarlett begged. “I have to know.”
“May we move on?” Schlager asked through Helga.
All those on the other side agreed that might be a good idea.
“But if you happen to locate the mirror, do let us know,” the doctor said.
“You wish to know about the spirit in the entity Mary Scarlett’s aura, do you not?” Sophia said before the doctor even posed the question.
“Indeed we do!”
“There is no evil in this guardian from the other side,” Sophia explained. “The woman wishes only good for the entity Mary Scarlett.”
“It’s Granny Boo! It has to be!”
“We can’t be sure,” the doctor said. “Let me ask a few more questions.”
“All right, but I know it’s Granny Boo.”
“Has this spirit of the aura been at her post for a long time?”
“She took her place in the aura while the entity Mary Scarlett was still in the womb. She has never deserted her post.”
&nb
sp; “Then she passed over long ago?”
“In your year, 1828.”
Shock registered on Mary Scarlett’s face.
The doctor looked at her quizzically. “Does that date mean anything to you, Mary Scarlett?”
“Nothing,” she answered. “Not a thing.”
Schlager nodded sagely. “This will bear some exploring once you go back in time. We shall learn the identity of your guardian.”
“Why don’t you just ask them?” Bolt suggested.
When the doctor did just that, the spirit of Annie answered, “You know in your heart, Mary Scarlett. She wishes you to remember without our telling you. The truth will come, and so will the mirror.”
“That damn mirror again!” Bolt muttered under his breath. “Why don’t we get some information from them. Something we can use. Like what next week’s winning lottery numbers will be? We could all get rich.”
“Tell the entity Bolton Conrad that we heard that,” Teaujac said in an angry voice. “We are not amused!”
“I do apologize for Conrad,” the doctor said, casting a scathing look at Bolt.
“What must I do to learn the identity of the woman in my aura?” Mary Scarlett asked.
One after another, the spirits called through Helga, “Go back! Go back! Go back!”
“It seems they are ending our conversation,” Dr. Schlager said. “Helga has gone still and silent once more.”
“But they didn’t tell us anything.” Mary Scarlett sounded disappointed almost to the point of tears.
“I think they told us a great deal, my dear. You know the spirit Helga saw in your aura is a woman who means you no ill.”
She nodded. “That’s true. I was so afraid the figure was my former husband, Raul Miguel.”
Dr. Schlager gave her a fatherly smile and patted her hand. “How sad to be widowed so young. If you like, Mary Scarlett, we can try to contact him.”
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