A Passionate Spirit

by S. C. Skillman

  At eight o’clock she left the dining area and went straight through into the office. A light on the answering machine indicated a message; she picked it up and learnt that Jessica, who had planned to come in that morning and chat to the departing guests, sent her apologies. She had a migraine and was staying in bed. She asked Zoe to pass on her good wishes to all those leaving today.

  Zoe worked at twice her usual pace for three hours, helping guests with suitcases and seeing them off. Meanwhile, Griff took over temporarily in the office. Against her own best instincts, Zoe had explained to Griff at breakfast her intention to go to a lunch appointment with James at midday. Griff had accepted this without comment, and now Zoe pulled her purple jacket on over her cream blouse and smart black trousers, picked up her crystal-studded shoulder-bag, and hurried through to the entrance hall. Opening the front door she walked out of the house.

  She and James were due to meet James’s producer friend in a hotel in Chipping Sodbury. She’d told nobody but Theo of the purpose of the meeting. And still she fought against her better judgement which told her to have nothing to do with James’s offer.

  James was already waiting for her in the Cayenne. The front passenger door was wide open. She got in.

  “Right then,” said James. “We’re off to Chipping Sodbury. Sonya should be at the hotel waiting for us, with the lunch already ordered.”

  Sonya, Zoe wondered. That was a coincidence. Sonya was the name of Natasha’s sister.

  James hummed a jaunty tune to himself as he turned the Cayenne round and then sped back up the drive towards the exit gate.

  As soon as James and Zoe walked into the hotel bar, and James introduced Zoe to his friend Sonya, Zoe knew for sure she was Natasha’s sister.

  “Hello, Zoe,” said Sonya, uncurling herself from her velvet-upholstered chair, and rising to her feet.

  Though her physical similarity to Natasha was clear, in many respects Sonya was very different. She boasted fine ash-blonde hair like Natasha’s. But she wore it backcombed, and piled up high in a textured hive.

  She stood at least ten centimetres taller than Zoe, and held her in a steel-hard gaze.

  “It’s good to meet you.” Her voice was crisp.

  “You’re Natasha Morrigan’s sister, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right. But in a very different line of business, I can assure you.” Sonya gave a small chuckle.

  Zoe’s spine prickled as she looked at Sonya. It would certainly be uncanny if both sisters held miraculous healing powers. Nevertheless, Sonya in her own way had a presence as formidable as Natasha’s. And the dazzling white, sharply-tailored suit contributed to that image in no small measure.

  “Do sit down, both of you,” said Sonya. James and Zoe took chairs on either side of her. Zoe’s eyes were drawn to Sonya’s shoes; four-inch silver heels and pointed toes extended her legs even further.

  Zoe returned her gaze to Sonya’s face.

  “Do have a drink, Zoe. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering one ready for you.”

  And Sonya indicated a psychedelic-looking cocktail.

  “What’s that?” asked Zoe.

  Sonya named the drink. It didn’t mean anything to Zoe, but she gave Sonya the benefit of the doubt and sipped it. The cunning blend of flavours in the cocktail sent a cascade of fire down into her stomach. She took a deep breath, setting the glass down on the table again.

  “So how would you describe your sister’s line of business?” Zoe asked.

  “Spiritual healing, of course,” said Sonya.

  Zoe moistened her lips. Her discovery that Natasha’s sister, the very person who’d paid a large sum of money to James, was in fact a film producer, did seem, on one level, to settle a major question in Zoe’s mind. But James had already suggested that acting work was thin on the ground for him these days and that he was disillusioned with the acting scene and wanted to live a more level life. So she still didn’t understand why such a large sum would have been paid to him.

  “I suppose you must often cast James in your films, Sonya.”

  “No. Nothing suitable.”

  Zoe clasped her hands together and tried another topic.

  “Do you and Natasha see a lot of each other?” she asked.

  Sonya began to stroke one of the long, slender fingers on her right hand. Zoe noticed she wore several dazzling dress-rings.

  “Oh yes,” said Sonya. “We’ve had our differences in the past; but not now.”

  Sonya flicked a stray blonde hair off one of her white lapels and exchanged a swift glance with James. A line had appeared on James’s forehead. He was about to speak when Zoe broke in with another question for Sonya.

  “Where do you believe your sister’s healing power comes from?” she asked.

  Sonya’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Zoe. “Natasha’s power?” she said. “From the same source that all spiritual power comes from: Some call it the ‘Great Spirit’, others the ‘Ultimate Reality’, or the ‘Universe’. Now, Zoe, I understand you’re interested in a part?” She reached down beside her to a large white leather handbag, snapped open the gold clasp, and brought out a document. “Here’s the screenplay,” she said, placing it on the table. “Let me talk you through it.”

  “Tell me about your film company first, Sonya,” said Zoe.

  Sonya searched her face. Then she named the company; one Zoe didn’t recognise.

  “What films does the company produce?”

  Sonya began to describe them. Zoe had neither seen nor heard of them. As Sonya continued to speak, Zoe felt more and more unstable, as if she was trying to maintain her balance on a shifting deck in a high sea.

  “Drink up,” said Sonya. “But do have a look at the highlighted sections in the script first.”

  Zoe took the script and studied the highlighted parts. She began to wonder why she was considering this when she noted the foul language the character was to use. And she remained unsatisfied with the information Sonya had given her. Meanwhile, she was aware of a continuous murmur of James and Sonya conferring together in very low voices.

  Then Sonya took the script away, put it back in her briefcase, and set another drink before Zoe.

  “Lunch will arrive in a minute.”

  Zoe felt bewildered. “Has James told you about the trouble we’ve been having at the centre?” she asked abruptly. “And the fact that my friend, Alice, has disappeared?”

  “Alice?” enquired Sonya. “Yes, I believe James did mention it to me. Sad. I understand the girl’s an actress. I do hope she’ll be found soon. But meanwhile, back to this part I have in mind for you. I must say, you’re ideal. I need someone with your looks, your colouring and your manner. Most of all I want someone untrained and raw; innocent even.”

  Zoe stared at her. Something didn’t ring true here.

  “And yet the character seems very aggressive to me,” she said.

  “Ah, here’s lunch,” said Sonya.

  When Zoe walked into the office later on, she found Theo sitting at her desk. He got up as she entered and came over to her.

  “What happened at the meeting?” he asked.

  “Can’t talk to you about it now, Theo,” she said.

  At once, James, who’d followed, broke in.

  “You’ve done the right thing.”

  “Zoe!” said Theo. “You haven’t committed yourself to anything have you?”

  She threw a cool glance at him then turned to James. “I didn’t like the foul language.”

  “No problem,” cut in James. “She said she’d get it changed.”

  Theo looked from Zoe to James and back again.

  “Sonya will be in touch,” said James.

  Zoe nodded, but made no reply. She went to sit at her desk. As she did so, her worries took over again.

  The meeting with Sonya had been all wrong. Zoe suspected that something had been added to those drinks she was given. And she mistrusted what James and Sonya had been murmuring together, out of her earsh
ot. She felt tired, confused and irritable. And through all this Alice’s name kept returning. Zoe instinctively felt responsible for her disappearance; though this seemed to have no logical cause.

  Theo came behind Zoe’s desk and laid a gentle hand on Zoe’s arm. She stiffened and drew her breath in between her teeth. He was trying to conciliate her. But it was no good. Their relationship was damaged beyond repair – unless he stood up to Natasha. But she kept her lips clamped shut. If she signed a contract for a film role she’d soon be well out of it.

  Sighing, Theo turned back to James. “I look forward to glancing over your schedule of workshops and learning the title of the ones I am to lead next week.”

  “Yes, yes,” said James in a bright, jocular tone, thrusting his hand into his pocket and jingling keys against coins.

  Zoe felt a pressure increasing over her scalp and above her right eye. Oh no, not a headache. The pulse on her wrist beat strongly. An image had flashed into her mind of Natasha sitting in the goose house with a voodoo doll of her, sticking pins into its head.

  Then Theo spoke again.

  “Griff has agreed to look after things in the office this afternoon,” he said, “and that suits me well. I’ve set up a special meeting with Natasha.”

  Zoe and James both went on alert.

  “Afternoon tea,” he replied, “in the King’s Head in Cirencester. I felt it best to choose neutral territory.”

  “And the occasion?”

  “A heart-to-heart chat about Natasha’s healings. Would you join us, Zoe?”

  James opened his mouth, when Theo said, “You have a meeting with Jessica then, don’t you? I checked in the office diary.”

  The skin stretched tight over James’s cheekbones. “That’s been postponed. Jessica, I understand, has a migraine. I’ll join your meeting instead.”

  “As you wish,” said Theo.

  Zoe studied James. Shadows swirled across his features.

  A short while later, both James and Theo were called from the office on different tasks, leaving Zoe alone. On impulse, Zoe went online, and entered some new keyword combinations together with James’s name. The next moment, she was surveying a set of results she’d never seen before. And following information trails she’d previously been unaware of.

  The phone rang. She grabbed it, hoping it might be the Missing Persons Co-ordinator to say Alice had been found. Instead, she heard Jessica’s voice.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Much better now, thank you, Zoe. I did have a meeting arranged with James this afternoon. We postponed it but I believe I could now make it.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Jessica. James, Theo and I are meeting Natasha in the King’s Head at three-thirty.”

  Jessica thought about this.

  “Then I’ll come too,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The hotel where Natasha had agreed to meet them presented an elegant facade on Market Place, with its stone-coloured paintwork. Inside there were several individual areas, and from one of these Natasha stepped forward to greet Theo and Zoe. Her cobweb hair flowed, as ever, over her shoulders and down the back of her ankle-length white silk dress. She held Zoe’s gaze for two or three seconds. Zoe’s muscles tensed. She thrust her fists into the pockets of her jacket.

  “Do come and sit down,” said Natasha. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  They followed Natasha, finding Jessica and James already seated on one of the low brown leather sofas which were placed opposite each other near the feature fireplace. Afternoon tea had already been set out on the oak table between the two sofas. Natasha sat next to James, and Theo and Zoe settled themselves down facing the other three.

  Natasha poured the tea. As she handed James his cup, he ran his finger down her bare arm. She shivered. Zoe watched, conscious of the current of erotic desire that passed between the two of them. Smiling, Natasha indicated the cake-stands. “Do help yourselves, everyone,” she said.

  “An excellent choice for afternoon tea, Natasha,” said James.

  “The credit’s all Theo’s,” she said.

  “So,” said Jessica, “I understand this little get-together is to give Theo and Zoe one last chance to quiz you yet again. You’re very kind, Natasha.”

  James crossed his legs and folded his arms, the finger of his right hand tapping against his other arm.

  Natasha relaxed back into the sofa and nodded. “That’s true, and I’m happy to answer their questions. It will allow me once again to explain my healings.”

  Zoe was bursting with questions.

  Theo looked at her. “You begin, Zoe.”

  She started. “Of course.” She turned back from him to face Natasha again. “Where does your power come from?” she asked.

  Natasha’s reply was given straightaway.

  “There can be only one source,” she said. “You would understand it as God.”

  James and Jessica both shifted uneasily.

  Natasha herself looked perfectly serene.

  “As you know,” she said, “I’ve healed several of the guests over the past two weeks. I’ve banished minor injuries and also life-threatening disease. Some say I do miracles.”

  “Yes,” said Jessica, “and both James and I can testify to that, too.”

  Zoe threw a startled glance at her.

  “Mmm,” said James, “Natasha healed a sporting injury of mine five years ago, sustained in a fall from a horse. I owe my present good state of health to Natasha.” He flicked a speck off his trousers.

  Zoe switched her attention to Jessica, who’d just sat forward.

  “As you know,” said Jessica, “I suffer from migraines. I woke up with one this morning. Later on, Natasha and I spoke on the phone; with a few words from her, it vanished.”

  Zoe could think of nothing to say.

  Then Natasha’s voice broke in. “I keep a record of all my healings.” Zoe refocused on her. “You may look at it if you wish.” Natasha produced a green velvet-covered notebook and handed it across the table to Zoe.

  Zoe spent five minutes leafing through the book and studying it. It recorded healings from three years back. The names, addresses and telephone numbers of the sufferers, details of their ailments, dates when they’d visited Natasha, a description of the healing and how it had been confirmed.

  Zoe looked up. “Do you keep in touch with all the people you’ve healed, Natasha?”

  “Oh yes,” she said with a smile, “very much so.”

  “Last week’s guests,” said Zoe; “do you expect to see them again in the future?”

  Natasha nodded, keeping her eyes on Zoe’s. Zoe sensed that a hidden meaning lay beneath her expression. Natasha sipped her tea.

  “May I look at the book?” asked Theo.

  Zoe passed the book to him. Meanwhile, James munched a strawberry tart, and exuded smug self-satisfaction. Zoe looked at Natasha again and tried to decide whether she recognised anything of Sonya in those eyes. As Natasha met her gaze, Zoe shivered. She felt as if her power source had started to fail; as if she was being broken up by a faulty electrical connection. Natasha was playing with her.

  “What do you do first of all,” she asked, “when you’re with a sick or injured person?”

  “Nothing, until they ask me to heal them,” said Natasha. “That’s very important. I never heal people who don’t ask.”

  “And when they do ask, you pass your hands over them. Do you pray?”

  “No.”

  James fidgeted. She glanced at him and noted a furtive shadow cross his face. He selected a meringue from the cake-stand and sunk his teeth into it.

  Zoe refocused on Natasha. Though seated on a leather sofa in the King’s Head Hotel, the healer looked to Zoe as if she was reclining against a tree in a glade of an ancient Celtic forest.

  Zoe sat forward. She tried to guess what Theo might say or do now if he was his true self, and not influenced by Natasha. Zoe had met his colleagues in the delive
rance ministry, two years before. She recalled the words they used if they felt real occult power was present. She had to give it a go.

  “Do you believe in the power of Jesus Christ over all this, Natasha?” she asked.

  Silence cut in. Zoe could no longer hear the murmur of other guests in the background. The healer’s luminous gaze seemed to stalk Zoe, biding its time, ready to spring when the time was right, when Zoe was trapped in a corner with nowhere to run. Zoe fought to avoid eye-contact with Natasha. But it was impossible. Some kind of presence swam in the air between Natasha and herself, reaching out to Zoe, trying to suck her in.

  “Tell me, Natasha,” said Zoe. “Do you believe that Jesus Christ is Lord?”

  Natasha’s expression changed. Zoe was looking at a different person. Sharp, dark lines scored the healer’s features. Her eyes glittered cold, impenetrable, venomous. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

  Zoe flinched. Something hard had hit her. It was a teacup. Hot tea splashed onto her lap. She dropped her own cup at once. It smashed as it landed on the floorboards. She leapt to her feet, crying aloud. A storm seemed to have whipped up around her. Teacups and cakes flew, and Natasha screamed. To Zoe, her appearance was no longer that of a beautiful young woman, but of a winged creature.

  James, Jessica and Theo all leapt to their feet, shouting, struggling, as if fighting something off. A waitress hurried towards them, fear and shock etched on her face. All Zoe could hear was screams, cries and the beating of wings. Then someone grabbed her arm and pulled her from the individual area where they’d been sitting, and she stumbled past the bar, followed by airborne missiles, grazing her cheek.

  Zoe had no sense at all of the reaction of the other guests in the hotel, as the main door shut behind them and they ran along Market Place in the direction of Castle Street.