The Seance

Someone had already done it.

The timer was set for seven-thirty, and the light was on.

Had she lost her mind? Was she doing these things herself and not realizing it?

She reached into one of the cabinets for Gran’s old rolling pin and got the pepper spray out of her purse. Methodically, and alone, she searched the downstairs.

Nothing.

No one.

Nothing else out of place.

Still armed, she walked up the steps and went through every room upstairs except her own, determinedly looking in every closet and underneath all the beds. Though she realized that she was shaking, she decided to check out the attic.

Ana—comfortably clad in a pair of Christina’s pajamas—came out into the hallway just as she pulled down the ladder.

“What are you doing?” her friend demanded.

“The coffeepot was already set,” Christina said. “Someone’s been in here.”

Ana watched her, frowning. “Christina, no one breaks in just to set a coffee timer. You must have done it and forgotten.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She started up the ladder and realized Ana was behind her.

“What are you doing?” Christina demanded.

“You’re not leaving me alone down here,” Ana said.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Christina promised. “I searched the ground floor and secured the basement, and I’ve been all through the rooms up here. All that’s left is the attic.”

“You’re still not leaving me down here,” Ana assured her.

They went up the ladder, Ana on Christina’s heels. Christina found the light switch and looked around. The attic was just as it had always been.

“There’s no one here, Christina,” Ana said. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to see a therapist. I mean, maybe you’re having short-term memory loss.”

“I’m not,” Christina insisted stubbornly. But what else could it be?

“Christie, thieves don’t break in just to move things around and put the coffee on for you,” Ana said gently.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Christina suggested firmly, ignoring Ana’s unassailable logic.

Ana giggled. “If you’ve got a ghost who brews the coffee for you, I want him to move in with me.”

Christina groaned. “I don’t need this from you, okay? Don’t you dare mention a word of this. Promise me right now that you won’t.”

“Right. My lips are sealed.” Ana hesitated. “Can we sleep with the television on?”

In a few minutes they were in bed, the hallway and bathroom lights still on, the TV tuned to a channel that ran nothing but sitcoms twenty-four hours a day. Pillows plumped, they settled down.

Ana was quickly and soundly asleep. Christina watched the television until she finally started to drift off.

Then it started again.

The feeling.

The feeling that someone was there. Standing at the foot of the bed.

Watching her.

Open your eyes.

No! she thought, ignoring what had to be an imaginary voice.

Christie…Help me, please….

She opened her eyes.

The room was in shadow, strange contrasts of light and dark created by the glow emanating from the bathroom and the hallway, which still left so much in darkness.

But there was something.

A figure.

At the foot of her bed.

“Ana!” she cried, gripping her friend’s arm.

Ana awoke, screaming. “What?”

The shadow…the figure…was gone.

Christina jumped up and ran to the foot of the bed, where she waved her hands through the air as if trying to feel something that clearly wasn’t there. Ana stared at her as if she had gone mad.

Suddenly they heard a noise from outside, the slamming of a car door.

They stared at each other. Ana’s jaw dropped.

Christina flew to the window, Ana right behind her.

There was a strange car in her driveway, parked on the far side of hers, so she couldn’t see the make or model.

“There!” Ana gasped.

Christina looked, and then she gasped, too.

A tall, dark, menacing figure was standing on the lawn. And as she watched, it started moving toward the house.

6

“A nd ever since the coming of the creature to the cavern, eerie screams can be heard at night. No one dares enter, because the creature remains there still, deep in the earth beside the crystal waters…waiting.”

Dan McDuff whispered the last word, then shut the book with a thump. To his deep gratification, several of the young women and two of the men in the audience jumped. He rose from the overstuffed armchair where the Grim Reader held court and swept a hand over the crowd, long black nails catching in the dim light. “Come back tomorrow night, if you dare, and the Grim Reader will offer you more tales of mystery, mayhem and the bizarre. Until then, good night, my children. Morbid dreams to you all.”

To the accompaniment of a nice smattering of applause, he walked down from the dais and headed for the doorway hidden in a hollow tree in the Mystic Forest, leading to a stairway into the tunnel system that was reserved for employees only. As the Grim Reader, it wouldn’t do for him to be seen mingling with the crowd before or after his appearances, though he did sit atop one of the floats in the parade, his oversize book on his lap, using his silver-tipped cane to point in sham threat at people in the crowd.

When he reached the men’s locker room, he scrubbed off the white-and-gray face paint that gave him the look of an aging corpse, then showered and dressed. He was off for the night.

He let out an irritated sigh as he shut his locker. There was still no word on final casting for the new show, and he was starting to get frustrated. He really didn’t want to be Raccoon Ralph forever. It didn’t pay enough, for one thing. It wasn’t that he’d gone through life wasting money, and he had the trust fund his grandmother had left him, but he was getting old. He needed something more substantial on his résumé. Either that, or he needed enough money to invest along with some of his fellow actors at the park who wanted to open their own theater.

He reflected for a moment that it was too bad Gran hadn’t decided to sell the old house—he didn’t even want to speculate what it was worth. Even a third of the profit from the house would have set him up. Hell, he probably could have opened a theater all on his own.

He smiled suddenly, wondering just how Christie was doing on her own in the old house.

As he left the locker room he bumped into Marcie McDonnagh, who was up for the part of Hera in the new Greek gods show and was also currently a fluffy by day and scary creature by night.

Marcie was pretty, with shoulder-length auburn hair and huge dark eyes. She was a talented dancer, as well, an area where he was lacking. His strength was that he could glance at a page of new music and know the melody before it ever left his lips.

“I wish they’d cast that new show already,” she said, obviously as frustrated by the situation as he was.

“Yeah, me, too.” He didn’t tell her that he was relieved that she didn’t know any more than he did.

She yawned. “Well, good night. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m on.”

She gave him a big smile. She really was pretty, he thought. Not to mention talented, and sweet.

She turned to walk away. “Hey, Marcie,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

She shivered. “I know. Who can miss the news?”

“I’m on my way out. Let me walk you to your car.”

She nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

As they walked, Dan slipped an arm around her shoulder. Maybe he wasn’t the best dancer, he thought. But he had all the strength he needed.

“Oh, my God! He’s coming!” Ana yelped.

The doorbell rang, and Ana turned to stare at Christina, who stared right back.

Then reason asserted itself.

“Burglars don’t usually ring the doorbell,” Christina assured Ana.

“But…it’s so late.”

“We were tired, so we went to bed. It’s really not that late. Only around ten-thirty.”

“You get a lot of visitors this late?”

“I’ve only lived here two days.”

“Get the rolling pin and your pepper spray,” Ana advised.

Though she felt foolish, Christina did as Ana had suggested. Then they crept down the stairs and toward the front door. When the bell rang again, they both jumped, and Christina almost stepped on Ana.

Christina stepped up to the front door and looked through the peephole, then let out a sigh of relief.

“Who is it?” Ana demanded, pushing closer and trying to get a look.

“Jed,” Christina said in surprise, balancing the pepper spray and rolling pin in one hand so she could open the door.

Jed stared at them with arched brows as the door opened. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something happen?”

“Someone made coffee!” Ana blurted.

“What?” Jed demanded.

Christina stared at Ana. So much for not saying anything.

“Nothing. Come on in,” she said.

He looked warily at the rolling pin.

“Just a precaution,” she said, blushing.

“And don’t worry,” Ana added quickly. “We searched the house.”

Jed looked at Christina, and she couldn’t tell if she was reading doubt or concern in the dark depths of his eyes. “Why were you searching the house this time?”

“Christina was convinced someone was here,” Ana explained. “Someone who set the coffeepot to go on at seven-thirty.”

This time Christina was certain the look he gave her was one of doubt.

“You think someone broke into your house to make coffee for you?” he inquired, trying to keep the skepticism from his voice.

She waved a hand dismissively and glared at Ana. “Don’t worry about it,” she muttered quickly. “What are you doing here so late?” she asked, forcing cheer into her voice. “Anybody want tea?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">