When the Spirit Calls (When the Spirit... series - Book 2)

by Thomas DePrima

  * * *

  "Madam Arlene," Oculara said, "Your eleven-thirty appointments are here. Should I send them down?"

  "Is it alright if I meet with them in the office?"

  "Of course, Madam Arlene."

  "Or better yet, since the office is so small, I'll meet with them up in the kitchen, if that's okay."

  "Of course, Madam Arlene. There's no one up there right now. We're so busy on the sales floor that everyone is out there. I'll show them the way to the kitchen."

  "Thank you, Oculara. Tell them I'll join them in a couple of minutes."

  Several minutes later, as Arlene was opening the door to exit the library, Erin, who was tagging along, asked, "Do you think this is a good idea right now? I mean having this meeting. We've got a lot on our minds. August 18th is less than two weeks away."

  "It's just going to be a brief discussion. We'll be done before Renee and Megan even get back with the lunch order."

  "Okay, it's your decision. You're the one they want to talk to."

  As Arlene stepped onto the top floor, the two men seated at the kitchen table stood up and smiled.

  "Madam Arlene," the older man said, "it's a pleasure to meet you. I've been looking forward to our getting together."

  "You must be Walter Kellogg," Arlene said as she extended her hand.

  "Yes," the man said as he took it and shook her hand lightly. Turning slightly and gesturing towards the younger man after releasing her hand, he said, "and this is my assistant, Harvey Brunn."

  Arlene extended her hand towards the younger gentleman and said, "Welcome to Lake Georgina, gentlemen. Shall we sit down? Would you care for some coffee?"

  "Nothing for me," Kellogg said.

  "Nor me," Brunn said.

  "Shall we get down to business, Madam Arlene?" Kellogg said. Without waiting for an answer, he added, "Madam Arlene, you're a hot property right now. The word is out that you've written a dynamite book, and every bookstore in the country is clamoring for copies. I understand a used copy of your book recently sold on eBay for over three hundred dollars. So we can't waste time. We've learned that the company you commissioned to print your book has run out of the nine hundred copies they were given to distribute. Copies of the book now can't be had for love nor money, other than in auctions like the one on eBay. We need to get your book back into production as soon as possible before the interest cools. I'm prepared to offer you a two-million-dollar advance against sales if you'll sign with us."

  "Two million? But that's just an advance against future earnings from sales. It's really meaningless. What would my share of the net from sales be?"

  "Eight percent of net against hardcover sales, five percent against trade paperback, two percent against pocketbooks, and a generous twenty-five percent against eBook sales."

  "That's not very much for a book that 'can't be had for love nor money.'"

  "It's the standard rate for new authors who haven't yet developed a following."

  "What kind of following is better than a book that 'can't be had for love nor money'?"

  "Okay, I can increase the hardcover rate to ten percent, trade paperback to six, and pocketbooks to four. I can't do any better on the eBooks rate."

  "I'm not a well know author, gentlemen, but I know the business. I want twenty percent on hardcover, twelve percent on trade paperback, six percent on pocketbooks, and fifty percent on eBooks."

  "No new author gets those rates," Kellogg said. "Even the most established authors in the business don't get those rates."

  "But that's what I require."

  "We can't do it."

  "That's a shame. Oh well, have a good trip back to New York City. And thank you for coming up."

  "Wait a minute. What are you going to do about republishing the book?"

  "I've been discussing this with an agent. He suggests having an auction. He promises me I'll get the rates I quoted, at the very least. He agrees the book is a hot property right now, and every publisher in the business wants a share of my pie. Or I could always go it alone as I did before."

  "Without a traditional publisher such as our firm behind the book, you'll never get it into libraries or most brick-and-mortar bookstores. That's our turf. Traditional publishers have that market locked up and Independent author/publishers don't stand a chance there."

  "Perhaps. But times are changing, gentlemen. The big trad publishers are going to have to start sharing the book profits with the people who actually produce the books, or authors will start bypassing them in greater and greater numbers. It's already begun. The number of hybrid authors— those who sell both through trad publishers and on their own as independent author/publishers— is increasing each year. I'm sorry, but I really must get back to work now."

  "Look, I'm authorized to go to fifteen percent on hardcover, ten percent on trade versions, five percent on pocketbooks, and twenty-five percent on eBooks with a stipulation that you get a bonus of fifteen percent additional on eBooks if sales exceed two hundred thousand copies, but it has to be a three-book deal."

  "You're getting closer, Mr. Kellogg."

  "I can't do any better."

  "I'm sure you have a cell phone. Talk to a V.P. or someone back in New York who can authorize you to go higher."

  "Look, this is the best we can do."

  "That's a shame. Well, you know where to find me if you discover you can meet my terms before the book goes out to auction."

  After escorting the two men to the door leading out of the office, Arlene returned to the library and discussed what had been said in the kitchen.

  "How come they only want to pay you such a small percentage of the net?" Erin asked as they took their seats.

  "The major publishers have exercised almost complete control over the publishing industry for many years. They won't easily surrender a larger share of the book profits they've come to see as their just due until they're forced to. But as I said, times are changing. They're starting to learn they can't treat their authors like cattle anymore because those authors are learning they can find greener pastures if they simply move out of the trad publishing barnyard."

  Arlene and Erin had just returned to work when the intercom line of the phone rang yet again.

  "Madam Arlene," Oculara said, "Father Paul is on the phone. He'd like to speak with you."

  "Thank you, Oculara. I'll take it."

  "Good day, Madam Arlene," she heard Father Paul say in response to her simple acknowledgement when she pressed the button to connect the line.

  "Good day, Father Paul."

  "Uh, Madam Arlene, my bishop is here in Lake Georgina. He'd very much like to meet you. Is that possible?"

  "I'm awfully busy today, Father. The eighteenth is getting closer and we're trying to learn as much as possible so we're prepared."

  "I understand, but he has to leave tonight, and he really wants to meet you."

  "Oh, very well. Is three o'clock convenient?"

  "Yes. Shall we come to the antiques store or will you come here?"

  "It would be better if you come to the antiques store. If I come there, I'll have a motorcade of people following me. I haven't been able to go anywhere during the daytime since that television interview."

  "I see. Please hold for a moment while I discuss this with the bishop." A second later the line went dead as the priest pressed the hold button on his phone.

  Fifteen seconds later, Father Paul reconnected the line. "Madam Arlene, His Excellency feels it would be better if you came here. Followers won't be allowed inside the rectory, so they'll never know Bishop Flaherty is meeting with you. Appearances are important."

  "I see. Very well, Father. But remember, I warned you. You might want to alert the sheriff's office that you may need crowd control over there. We've had a dozen deputies out front here every day for the past week, and they're barely adequate."

  "I'll do that. I look forward to seeing you at three o'clock. Thank you, Madam Arlene."

  As Arlene hung up the
telephone receiver, Erin asked, "You're going outside before it gets dark?" Erin asked.

  "Yes, Father Paul wants me to come meet his bishop."

  "Why do I think that's not a good idea?"

  "Perhaps because I'm thinking the same thing. I imagine the bishop is hoping he can completely debunk my claims that I see and commune with spirits. No offense is meant to our Wicca friends, but I'm guessing this will be a witch hunt."

  "And you're going anyway?"

  "I have to. I believe the presence of Father Paul at the exorcism on the eighteenth is crucial. Right now, he's behind us a hundred percent. If I don't do this, he might decide not to support our effort. I'm sure the bishop is going to want some form of verification, but I have no idea how I can convince him. I'll just have to play this by ear."

  "Maybe we should meet at Gianni's Restaurant. You can have Papa float some tissues to him."

  "Funny, Erin. But maybe that's not such a bad idea."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'll explain after I make a phone call," Arlene said as she picked up the receiver again.

  * * *

  "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Madam Arlene," Father Paul said as his housekeeper escorted Arlene, Megan, Erin, and Renee into the rectory dining room. Father Paul and Bishop Flaherty had stood up as Arlene entered, and upon seeing the others who had accompanied Arlene, Father Paul added, "Welcome, ladies." The housekeeper backed out, closing the door behind her as Father Paul introduced the four women to the bishop.

  "Shall we sit down?" Father Paul said when the introductions were complete.

  Once everyone was seated, Bishop Flaherty said to Arlene, "I echo Father Paul's sentiment about coming on short notice. I must leave tonight, and I very much wanted to meet you after reading your book."

  "And I'm confident Father Paul mentioned that, while I represented the story as fiction in order to avoid being labeled a member of the lunatic fringe, it's actually a true account."

  "Yes, he did."

  "But you don't believe it?"

  "It's a bit— farfetched."

  "Yes, it is. But I prefer to have readers think of it as whimsical."

  "Do you have any proof it happened as you say?"

  "No. None. Do you have any proof that Jesus fed the four thousand when all he had was seven loaves of bread and a few fish?"

  "I don't believe you are Jesus Christ, Madam Arlene."

  "I'm sure we can both agree on that point, Your Excellency."

  Bishop Flaherty chuckled and said, "I understand you've never studied any foreign languages."

  "That's true, but Amelia Turner-Westfield did."

  At that point, Bishop Flaherty began speaking in French. Father Paul wasn't able to follow, but all four of the women did. Arlene replied to the bishop's questions in flawless French, while the bishop stumbled a bit at times during their brief conversation until Arlene helped him find the proper words.

  When Bishop Flaherty was finally satisfied, he said in English, "Your French is perfect, Madam Arlene. I'm afraid I don't get much opportunity to practice."

  "You did quite well, Your Excellency. I have a bit of an edge in that for the past two months I've been immersed in books written in European languages, and I've spent considerable time reviewing key passages in French manuscripts."

  "I understand you speak German as well," the bishop said, at which point he began speaking in that language.

  After several minutes of conversing in German, Bishop Flaherty smiled and resumed the discussion in English. But before he did, he turned towards where Megan, Erin, and Renee were sitting and said, "I apologize for making you sit through this while Madam Arlene and I spoke in French and German."

  "That's okay, Your Excellency," Megan said, "We all speak a number of languages. We didn't feel left out because we understood every word."

  "Uh, you three were the ones who traveled back in time with Madam Arlene?"

  "Yes," Renee said, "although technically only our souls traveled back and were put into the bodies of women who already lived in that time."

  "Yes, I see. So you're all involved in the exorcism effort?"

  Arlene looked quickly at Father Paul. Until then she hadn't known he had shared that information with the bishop.

  * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  Father Paul noticed Arlene's reaction. "I'm sorry," he said, "I should have told you. I've briefed Bishop Flaherty on everything that's been going on here in Lake Georgina since you alerted the sheriff's office about the body in the stream."

  "That's okay, Father Paul. He's your superior. But we'd appreciate if you didn't share that information with anyone else. We don't want to turn the effort into a circus."

  "I understand. I won't tell anyone else."

  "You truly believe the spirit of a demon has been released from Hell and has been walking the Earth for eleven years, creating mayhem?" the bishop asked, his tone reflecting the incredulity he was feeling.

  "I wouldn't exactly say walking. He doesn't have a body of his own. To kill, he must temporarily take over the body of a mortal. But yes, I believe a demon was freed by people who had no idea what they were doing and who would never have done it if they had known the consequences of their actions."

  "But you haven't had any contact with this demon?"

  "Yes, I have. He visited us two days ago."

  "He visited you?"

  "He came to the antiques shop."

  "How do you know he was there?"

  "Normally, I can feel a spirit's presence immediately, but when he arrived I was deeply involved with a book written in Greek. It was sort of confusing, and I was concentrating really hard to understand what the author intended, so I didn't realize Kamet was there until he spoke."

  "He spoke?"

  "He talked through Megan. As soon as I realized it wasn't her controlling her voice, I looked up. I could see the aura around her that meant a departed spirit had taken over her body. Spirits who haven't crossed over can't do that, and they're fully visible anyway. But they have the same type of aura, which allows me to distinguish mortals from spirits who haven't crossed over."

  "Spirits who haven't done what you call 'crossing over' look just like ordinary people?"

  "They do to me. I've never met anyone else who could see them, or at least anyone who would admit they can see them. It's the aura that allows me to immediately distinguish the mortals from the spirits."

  "Can they ever conceal this aura?"

  "Only when they make an effort to conceal their visible presence from me entirely, but I still feel their presence. No one has given me a book of instructions on what abilities I have or how to use them, so it's been a sort of learn-as-you-go arrangement."

  "Everything you say is so incredible."

  "But you don't believe it."

  "Uh, I'm having difficulty."

  "That's okay. I didn't come here to sell you on the idea."

  "I wish I could believe you. It's a wonderful fantasy, and I would like most of what you say to be true. I'm not too keen on the idea of demons walking the Earth and murdering mortals."

  "I wondered if I might be required to present an example that what I say is true, so we made a quick side trip before coming here so I could pick up a spirit."

  "You've brought a spirit with you?"

  "Yes. He's been here the whole time we have."

  "He?"

  "His name is William Bartholomew Winston."

  "Isn't that the name of the spirit you say is traveling with that reporter who's doing all the interviews?"

  "Yes. Before we came here, I called Katy Neilson and asked her where the van was parked. She told me and we went there so I could ask Barty if he would help me out. He agreed."

  "And just how is he going to help you out? Can he take over a body?"

  "No, he hasn't crossed over yet, so he can't do that. And spirits who have crossed over to the immortal world can't take over a body in the way Kamet can. They tire ve
ry quickly just from manipulating the body to speak with us. What I thought Barty might do is move something for you. It has to be very light. The heavier the object, the more quickly he will tire and be unable to do anything else."

  "How about some tissues?" Father Paul asked. "Maria said Papa moved a couple of them to prove he was there."

  "Perfect. Do you have a box here?"

  Father Paul stood up and moved to a sideboard, where he opened a drawer and removed a box of tissues. He then placed it in the center of the dining room table.

  "Would you remove a couple of tissues from the box, Father. They don't appear to be the kind that pop up when one is removed."

  Father Paul removed two tissues, crushed them slightly so they stood up a bit in a conical position, and placed them on the table.

  "Okay, Barty," Arlene said, looking in the direction of the door where they had entered, "would you please give one of the tissues to Bishop Flaherty?"

  A second later, one of the tissues rose from the table and floated over to where the bishop was seated. His eyes grew as large as saucers as the tissue stopped a foot from him and hung suspended in midair.

  "Take the tissue, Your Excellency, to verify there're no strings or threads attached to it," Arlene said.

  Bishop Flaherty reached out and took the tissue, then examined it closely. "How did you do that?" he asked Arlene.

  Arlene chuckled. "That's the usual reaction I get from mortals. Even when they see things with their own eyes— things that couldn't possibly be faked— they ask me how I did it. The plain truth is, I didn't do it. Barty did it. By the way, thank you, Barty." After a slight pause she added, "No, please remain a little longer."

  "Well, Your Excellency?" Father Paul said. "Are you a believer now?"

  "I admit to being a bit closer. Tell me, Madam Arlene, is there anything else Barty is capable of doing?"

  "Well. He might be able to create a localized wind."

  "As was described early in your book when you were in the drawing room following the attempted séance?"