Shadowwraith by Tracy Revels

Author:Tracy Revels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sherlock Holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes novels, sherlock holmes fiction, supernatural fiction, supernatural thriller
ISBN: 9781780928647
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2015
Published: 2015-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Professor Steele whirled around. The figures winked out of existence as Sherlock Holmes stepped forward. A pale golden light emerged from the head of his cane, casting an eerie halo around his figure, so that he appeared almost as unearthly as the departed forms.

“Most ingenious, Professor. Unable to summon the actual spirits of history’s illustrious personages, you have created characters for them. Watson, do join us,” he called, signaling for me to enter the enchanted circle of light. “This lady holds the key to questions that the readers of your stories might like answered.”

The stout woman looked back and forth between us. “I should have known! I was warned there would be debunkers, but I was expecting Maskelyne, not you.”

Holmes showed teeth. “I am flattered to be placed on par with such a notable illusionist. Indeed, he would be most interested in your performance and could devise appropriate challenges.”

“Are you threatening me?” she hissed.

“I am merely laying the groundwork for a request. I need your assistance.”

She scowled. “In what way?”

“You are clearly a gifted medium, or, to use the Shadows term, a summoner. You can call wandering spirits to you and bind them to your will. How is it that you came upon the idea of calling up actors?”

The lady took a seat in a prop throne, leveling an imperious look at Holmes. “I was raised in the Dock Street Theatre of Charleston,” she said, “the oldest playhouse in America. I discovered my abilities when I was young. This should not surprise you.”

“It does not,” Holmes agreed. “Mortals consider theatrical folk among the most superstitious in the world. But we know it is merely their closer connection to the Shadows. After all, they spend their lives in a world that is often a dream.”

The lady frowned, but at Holmes’s gesture she continued to speak. “Last year, while we were touring in England, my parents were killed and I found myself penniless. But I was able to convince my ghostly friends to take me on as their manager. Everyone sees spirits these days, so why not allow them to believe they are seeing the spirits of their heroes and idols? The show must go on.”

“Holmes,” I said, “how did you know they were the ghosts of actors and not the ghosts of Caesar or Marie Antoinette?”

My friend could not suppress a look of arch amusement. “Because you are such an excellent reporter, Watson! The clue was in your description of the characters on stage. I know my history better than our self-declared Professor does. Julius Caesar was not a man with a lush head of curly hair - he was nearly bald when he was assassinated. And Marie Antoinette never proclaimed that the poor of her nation should eat cake. These are fables that the true spirits of the dead would have balked at presenting. Ghosts may be bound to a summoner, but they cannot be forced to be anything other than what they were in life. An actor, of course, can be ordered to perform to his director’s specifications.

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