That the Dead May Rest comes out the day after tomorrow! (Gulp.) Today's excerpt is a longer one, spanning parts of two scenes. An explanatory note: Sam is an old flame of Rosie's, now a spirit. By this point, he has already succeeded in making contact with Rosie, and she's agreed to do some research into what's happening, but she's been stalling on actually reporting back on what she found out.
The italicized, centered name after the asterisks indicates the character whose POV we're entering. The first of the two scenes takes place in the afterlife.
--------
Sam waited for Jeri to sit back down and then slowly stood up, his hands in his pockets. It looked as if his fingers were fidgeting. “Rosie promised to find out what was happening and how often, but she hasn’t tried to get in touch with me since then. And she’s a professional medium! She’s just decided not to cooperate.” A couple of people groaned, and others muttered. Sam nodded agreement and added, “I’m about ready to pester her some more.”
Millie considered the problem. Being a medium for money was a time-honored way to con people, but if Sam had gotten through before, Rosie must have some genuine ability to span the divide between the living and the afterlife. What if she hadn’t realized it? And besides, it’d be natural enough to want to hide from the ugliness of what was happening. Millie would have been glad to do the same, if only she hadn’t been dragged into the middle of it. She raised a hand for Johnny’s attention and said, “What if she’s just taking her time, or not sure what to do?”
“Stalling? Yeah, she might be doing that.” Sam chewed his lip for a moment. “Well, I’ll just need to get her moving.”
Johnny looked around the group and said slowly, “You probably have the best chance of a real exchange, a back-and-forth dialogue. How about if we take advantage of it? Jeri, Robert, how would you feel about hitching a ride, so to speak, on Sam’s channel of communication with his friend?”
Jeri jumped up again, waving her arm. “Oh, let me! I could even ask this Rosie to get in touch with my sister!” Her face suddenly crumpled, and she fought her way through tears to say, “I could tell her I love her.”
Johnny came over and enveloped her in a bear hug, while Robert said more quietly, “I’d be glad to join in.”
Millie looked at them, and then at the rest of the group. Could she? Did she want to? Yes and yes. “Why not some more of us?”
Jeri raised an eyebrow. “Did you want to get in on this? What could you tell them?”
Millie looked her square in the eye. “I can tell them what you couldn’t. I could tell them that my body killed someone, and that I want it stopped. I want it to STOP.”
* * * * *
Rosie
Rosie had spent quite enough time running errands for her overactive imagination. And now her assistant was offering a necessary distraction. “It’s time for another séance, isn’t it? You did spend a substantial, if not inadvisable, amount of money on the new sound system, and the bill has come in.”
They arranged to set things in motion immediately for another séance as soon as they could collect enough people to attend it. They had to include some new clients along with the regulars, so extra staging would be prudent. She had Diane pull the high-end portable air conditioner out of the attic and place it where it would, at the appropriate moment, blow into the room, with the mood music on high enough volume to cover the sound. Then Diane showed the new clients where to put jackets and coats, as well as purses and other such articles. Some mediums would have their helpers search purses and coat pockets for useful information, but Rosie had no use for such crude methods. Mingling, eavesdropping, seemingly trivial questions, and Rosie’s keen ability to read people would suffice.
The clients, old and new, gradually took their seats. Rosie let them converse a little longer — reading lips was one of her more useful skills — and then slowly lifted her hands. “Welcome, friends,” she intoned, and went on with her usual spiel. As she uttered the words “spirit guide,” the cool air began to flow into the room, and the more sensitive among the clients looked around uneasily or went pale.
But then, impossibly, a wave of warm air flowed in and overpowered it, air carrying the scent of . . . roses. And as the murmuring around the table increased, she heard a familiar male voice say, in somewhat sarcastic tones, Time for a new spirit guide, Rosie. And I’m bringing some friends.
She almost let her jaw drop before gaining control of it. And speaking of control, she had better make sure she retained it. Could she go through the usual greeting to her supposed guide, and follow it with the contacts whose suitability she’d pieced together? Not a chance, not with Sam saying, Well, Rosie? Ready to meet them? They need to talk to you.
She looked around the room with an awestruck expression, which was close enough to her actual feelings that she could easily don it. “My friends, something unprecedented is taking place! My spirit guide, Aya, has yielded to the entreaties of another spirit who urgently needs to speak to us. His name, she says, is – speak louder, please -- is Thaddeus.” That’d show him. Take over her séance, would he?
Very funny. Now listen up.
— No, you just hold on a minute while I get ‘em ready for you.
Rosie had always been good at creating voices. It was even easier to mimic a voice she’d recently heard. She ran Sam’s words over in her head for a moment and then said in her own voice, “Listen, friends, to the urgent message Thaddeus has come so far to share with us, a danger he and his friends have sensed from the Great Beyond.” And then, at a lower pitch and in Sam’s rhythms: “I’m here to warn you all, and to ask you to warn others. There is danger coming your way, and you, all of you, the living, need to find out what to do about it.” And then, to twist Sam’s tail a little more, she added, “Thank you, Madame Rebecca, for giving me a way for my friends and me to deliver this warning.”
The clients were so riveted they were barely breathing. Their eyes went even wider as the breeze shifted from warm and floral to cold again, but clammy this time, and bearing the odor of damp earth.
Now came a new voice, a woman’s, not exactly old, but with the tentative, shaky sound that some women acquired before their time. Rosie obediently echoed it. “My name is Millie, and I know better than almost anyone else that something terrible is happening.”
No comments:
Post a Comment