The Medium

"Did it have a farm smell?" I screwed up my nose. I'd only been to one farm in my life, when Mama had taken me to see where milk came from as a child. I'd got dung on my boots and straw in my hair and the aroma had stayed with me ever since. I knew after that experience I was a London girl through and through.

He smiled, despite the horrible tale he was telling. "No. Just a pleasant country odor. I could hear an owl but nothing else. It was very quiet. I was dragged further away again and I remember rolling into a ditch."

"And left there to die," I whispered.

"I suppose so. I was in and out of consciousness by this stage. I remember being extremely cold, all the way through, as if my very bones had frozen. I'd lost my coat and hat and the blanket had also disappeared."

I shivered and hugged myself. "How long before you died, do you think?"

He shrugged. "It could have been minutes or days, I really don't know."

I looked out the window but there was no sign of George, which was good because I hadn't finished questioning Jacob and I wanted to continue to do it alone. I'd discovered years ago that discussing a ghost's death with them could be quite an intimate affair. I suspected Jacob wouldn't want George to know all the harrowing details. I felt privileged that he was confiding in me.

"Did the killer remain with you until you died?"

"No." He blinked rapidly and rubbed a finger across his bottom lip. There was something he wasn't telling me.

"Did your killer say something before he departed?"

He hesitated then his gaze leveled with mine. "Yes. He cursed me for killing his son."

My heart thudded once against my ribs. "Frederick."

Jacob nodded. "He must have died from his injury. The injury I gave him. Only not straight away but some time later."

I felt like I'd been punched in the chest. Breathing suddenly became difficult. I didn't understand. There was something wrong, something missing in this puzzle and I couldn't put my finger on it. Perhaps Jacob was still withholding information.

"What exactly did he say?" I asked. "Tell me the curse. We can do some research on it and perhaps find out more about your killer that way."

"I won't tell you the precise wording of the curse since I don't know if it can be activated by words alone." I agreed with an urgent nod. George had just emerged from the front door of his house and was speaking to the driver. "My attacker said if I wanted to live, I must prove I deserve to by sacrificing something important to me." His voice shook slightly. "He likened it to the loss of his only child, the most important thing to him. My loss had to match his."