by Lexi Aurora
“Close your eyes,” Fiona told us in a hushed voice. “Don’t open them for anything, not even if something touches you.”
The warning sent a shiver through the room. I kept my eyes open and focused on Fiona, whose long lashes were spread over her cheeks. She squeezed my hand and her eyes fluttered open to lock on mine when nobody else was looking.
“Close your eyes,” she mouthed with a smile, then brushed her fingertips over my brow and eyelids, closing my eyes. I felt almost breathless at the touch. I pulled my hand from hers to stroke her palm with my fingertips, my eyes still closed, tracing the bottoms of her fingers in a teasing stroke. I didn’t know why I was doing it, just that I wanted to send her a message. She responded but intertwining our fingers as she began to speak.
“If there are any spirits in this room, we ask you to bless us with your presence,” Fiona said in a voice soft as a lullaby. “Please be kind with us. We only want to communicate.”
Silence. There was a stillness as everybody held their breath. Suddenly, something fell behind Fiona, something that sounded like metal hitting the stone floor. I opened my eyes but Fiona kept hers closed. I was the only one who had them open, and I looked around the room at several scared faces and some that just looked curious and patient.
“Was that the horseshoe?” Fiona asked, raising her eyebrows. I looked over to see that it had been the horseshoe, which had been hanging over the fireplace but was now in the fire. I watched as it started to glow orange, heated by the flames.
“Are you trying to tell us something, spirit?” Fiona asked. “You may speak through me or use your voice in here. Nobody is going to harm you or send you away.”
There was quiet again. Then a voice came, soft but solid, out of the corner.
“I’m here,” said the voice. I swiveled my head to look around me, but saw nobody lingering in the shadows where the voice had come from. I felt a chill run through my spine but in my head I knew that I was being foolish. There was no such thing as spirits or mediums. It was all a trick. Still, I was impressed with Fiona’s performance, especially when I watched in amazement as the candles began to blow out one-by-one. I gasped softly, unable to stop myself, and I saw a couple of people’s eyes flutter open. All of the candles were going out as we watched, until only one was left. It was my brother’s candle that was still lit. The two women beside me began to murmur and Jason opened his eyes. When he saw that his candle was lit, he opened his mouth to speak.
“Quiet,” Fiona said, cutting him off. “I can feel something in here.”
“Father?” said my brother. “Is it you, Father?”
I looked over at him and he met my eye. I gave him a brief shake of the head but he ignored me.
“Tell us your name,” Fiona said. “Are you this man’s father?”
There was a soft sound in the corner where the voice had come from, halfway between a sigh and a groan. Then Jason’s candle blew out. I looked at Fiona to see that her eyes were still closed, but there was a frown on her face.
“He’s gone,” she said, opening her eyes and releasing my hand. “There’s nobody else here.”
It was Markwell’s voice that spoke up. “Are you sure he’s gone?” the man asked. I noted that he looked pale and almost shaken, though he certainly wasn’t the only one. Even Fiona looked like she had been deeply affected by what had happened, the voices and the candles.
“Nobody’s here,” said Fiona, her voice small. “It’s as if he took everybody with him.”
I looked over at Jason, who was staring openly at Fiona.
“I think that’s it for tonight,” she said. She suddenly sounded exhausted, as if she was fighting to stay awake. There were murmurs around the room as people scraped back their chairs and started to stand up. Fiona stayed seated, and I glanced at her before I walked across the room to my brother.
“Are you ready?” I asked him. He glanced at me, then back at Fiona.
“I’ll be ready in a moment,” he said, and started in her direction. I almost followed him, but I knew it would do no good. Instead, I walked a short distance to the stables without calling the attendant. I needed the time to breathe, to think, to marvel at what I had just seen.
Chapter 4: Fiona
I started to gather my things, though I was interrupted several times by the lords and ladies coming up to me to tell me how impressed they were with what I’d done, and asking what it was like to communicate with spirits, and a dozen other things that I had no energy to answer. I felt drained, tired, and confused. The séance had gone strangely, and though some of the tricks were mine—the horseshoe dropping, the voice in the corner, it had felt like somebody else was interfering.
Most of the guests had left the party when a man walked up to me. I turned my face to see that it had been the man who had spoken during the séance, the one who had called out to his father. I stood up and looked at him.
“I hope you enjoyed your evening, sir,” I told him, giving him a small bow. I didn’t know who he was, though judging by his clothing he was a high-ranking member of nobility.
“It was fine,” he said, his voice stiff. I had never seen a man look half as serious, half as intense as he gazed into my eyes. He reminded me of the man I had met earlier, Julian, the one who had touched me so softly during the séance. I couldn’t get Julian out of my mind; I wondered if this was his brother, the older one.
“Are you Lord Castellano?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I am.”
“Your father just passed,” I said.
He gave me a grave look. “Yes, he did.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord,” I said. “My sincerest condolences to you and your family.”
“Thank you,” he said stiffly, then paused. “I want to hire you for your services.”
“To contact your father,” I said. I had expected he would come to me and I wasn’t surprised by his request. It wouldn’t be hard to pretend to contact the late earl. I had gotten plenty of gossip about him from Constance, how his wife had died, how it was rumored that he’d had an affair with his stable boy. It was all just trash, but I could use it to get a feeling about who the earl had been before he died.
“Yes,” he said. The look in his eyes almost became desperate. “It doesn’t matter the cost. I’ll pay you double if you can take me tonight.”
I hesitated. “My lord, I do not think it appropriate to have you in my home alone at night.”
He peered at me and ran his hands through his hair, his body sinking.
“You’re right, Miss Temple,” he said, and he sounded so tired and defeated that my heart went out to him. “I do apologize.”
“It’s fine,” I told him. “I can see you first thing in the morning.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Alright. Thank you, Miss Temple.”
“You’re welcome,” I said as he turned away. He gave me one more brief nod before he left. Over his shoulder, I saw his brother standing in the doorway, leaning against it to wait for Jason. Julian’s eyes found mine and he gave me what looked like an almost mischievous smile. I felt the corners of my lips turn up despite my exhaustion. When his brother walked past him, Julian gave me a small bow before he turned around to follow Jason outside. He closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the house with the hosts of the party. I finished gathering my things and quietly disappeared outside, knowing that Phillip would be out there waiting with my small carriage.
By the time I got home, it was very late. I’d been so tired that I had fallen asleep in the carriage while Phillip took us home. He lived on the land next to mine and that was where I kept my horse, so he’d intended to just drop me off at my house before going home. He’d woken me up by gently saying my name. Even though his voice had been quiet, it startled me, and I felt myself jump to attention. I got out of the carriage and said goodnight to my attendant before making my way up the walk to my porch. I opened the door and went inside, going immediately to my bed without bothering
to undress. It was strange; I was used to being up this late, never a great sleeper, but tonight I managed to doze off the moment my head hit the pillow.
I was awoken to knocking on my door only a few hours later, and tried to ignore it by putting my pillow over my head. The knocking grew louder, and I grumbled as I sat up and slipped into a robe, making my way barefoot down the stairs and to the front door. I peered out to see that it was Lord Castellano, his face set and intent. I sighed and opened the door to him, wrapping my robe tightly around my body.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes going wide when he saw my state of dress. I, for one, was unconcerned. Everything that needed to be covered was covered, and he had woken me up.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” I said. “I was sleeping.”
“Feel free to go change,” he said, blushing deeply. I had to smile when I turned my back to him and walked back upstairs to get dressed. By the time I was decent, I went downstairs to see that Lord Castellano was sitting perched at the edge of one of the chairs at the séance table, his hands folded on top of the wood. I sat down across from him and looked him in the eye.
“You might not get answers,” I told him. It was something that I told everyone. Sometimes it didn’t work; though I didn’t contact spirits, there was something that I couldn’t explain which flowed naturally through me while I was performing, something that brought answers to my lips that were easy. I was good at telling stories, but I couldn’t always get in the right mindset. “You might not get the answers you want.”
He nodded, staring at me intently. “I understand,” he said. “But I have to try.”
I lit the candle in front of us and shook out the match, then took both of his hands in mine.
“Close your eyes, my lord,” I said softly, focusing my mind on what I knew about the late Lord Castellano. “Think about your father.”
I felt him squeeze my hands, felt his body tense with the effort of his focus.
“Father,” he said. “I need to know what happened to you.”
There was a noise behind me, one that startled me enough to make me jump. It wasn’t coming from behind, where I’d placed a foot pedal that I could step on to knock against the wood. Instead, it came from higher up on the wall, just behind my head. I jumped again when the noise came back, louder. My hands were shaking, I knew, but I pressed on.
“Lord Castellano,” I said. “If you’re listening, speak to us. Your son has a great many questions to ask you.”
“Father,” Jason said again. “Were you poisoned?”
There was a loud crash from the front of the room, the sound of a window breaking inward. My eyes flew open to see that the entire window had been shattered. Jason swiveled in his chair, his face white and flustered. He got up while I stayed seated, went over to the window and looked through it. He bent down and picked something up—a rock about the size of his fist. Jason stepped through the broken window and I watched as he went out to the street, looking back and forth to see if anybody was around. He turned back to me and shook his head. Still, my heart was racing as he approached the table again.
“I will pay for that,” he said, pulling out cash and putting it on the table. It was a lot of money—more money than I would have charged him for two services. I put it in my dress pocket and bowed my head in thanks.
“Shall we continue?” I asked, though I didn’t really want to. I was shaken by what had happened—not just the window breaking, but the sounds that had come from behind me. I had never experienced those before, not in all my years of being in the business or watching my grandmother perform.
“Yes,” he said, giving me a nod. I took a deep breath, taking his hands again. They were sweaty, warm, and clammy, as if he was as nervous as I was. I felt chills running up and down my spine, despite the fact that we were sitting in front of the fire.
I indicated that he should close his eyes and then I did the same.
“Lord Castellano,” I said. “Are you here with us?”
There wasn’t a sound. I had been expecting the same noise as before, the mysterious banging just behind my head. When nothing happened, I used the foot pedal to create a tapping in the cabinet. I was relieved to be back in control of what was happening, and I wanted to get him his answers quickly in order to get him out of there.
“I can hear him,” I said in a soft, hushed voice. “Can you hear his voice, my lord?”
“I can’t,” said Jason in a frustrated voice.
“Focus,” I told him, making my voice as persuasive and soft as I could. “There’s a peace in the room with us. Your father is here.”
Jason stayed quiet. I could feel his hands trembling, and how tense he was from across the table.
“Your father died peacefully,” I told him. “In his sleep.”
“Yes,” said Jason in a low voice.
“He’s passing on, my lord,” I said. “He’s moving forward. You should say something to him.”
“What happened to you, Father?” Jason asked. “Tell me. I know there’s something wrong.”
I squeezed the man’s hands in comfort.
“He’s gone,” I told him softly after a moment. I opened my eyes to see that he was staring at me, looking almost frantic. He shook his head.
“I don’t believe that,” he said, standing up. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, then pulled his money clip out again and thrust more cash into my hands. “I’ll be back soon.”
I nodded, sighing. Some clients were like that—they didn’t give up, not until they found the answers they wanted. In the case of a possible murder, I did one thing and one thing only—denied it, told the client that their loved one had passed on. It was a rule of the trade never to get involved with possible criminal activity, to remain on the side skirts of the gossip and the speculation as to not get involved with the investigation. It didn’t matter how many times that Lord Castellano came in to contact his father; I would give him the same answer each time.
“I’ll see you soon, my lord,” I told him, giving him a small bow. “Thank you for coming.”
He muttered a goodbye, his eyes on me but far away. I watched him leave, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 5: Julian
“We’re having dinner with Lord Markwell tonight,” said Jason, looking up at me over the breakfast table. I stopped what I was doing, my food halfway to my mouth, and lowered my fork to stare at him.
“Jason,” I began, but he put his hand up to cut me off.
“I have a feeling about him,” said my brother. “I want to ask him a few questions.”
I shook my head. I gave up the argument, knowing that he was going to do whatever he wanted. He was becoming increasingly obsessed with Markwell, something that did not bode well for our dinner conversation. I was afraid that Jason would be too intense, and might antagonize Markwell in some way while he was trying to find out more information about him. Markwell had been close with father but neither Jason nor I had much contact with him growing up. He had seemed like a cold, closed-off man, one who wouldn’t give away information very easily.
I spent the rest of the day dreading dinner, but I forced myself to get ready an hour before Markwell was supposed to arrive. I heard the door and knew that it was him. I left my room, looking down over the bannister from the second floor to see Markwell in the foyer with the maid, politely handing her his jacket without looking at her once. I made my way downstairs and greeted Markwell, shaking his hand firmly as I led him into the kitchen.
My brother was already in there when we entered. I noticed that he froze when he saw Markwell, staring at him intently in a way that was too familiar for his relationship with the man.
“Jason,” I said. “Is dinner ready?”
Jason nodded.
“Good evening, Lord Markwell,” said Jason, extending his hand to take Markwell’s. “Please, have a seat.”
We all sat down at the table, waiting to be served.
“So I’d imagine you have a lot of
work to do now that you’ve inherited your father’s title,” said Markwell, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “You must be busy.”
“I certainly am,” said Jason. “There’s been a lot to grow accustomed to.”
“I can imagine,” said Markwell.
It was quiet for a moment, an uncomfortable silence. I could tell that Markwell wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here. I didn’t know, either, but the tension in the room was so palpable that I found myself nervously trying to fix it. I cleared my throat.