The Daemoniac by Kat Ross

Author:Kat Ross [Ross, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9972362-5-5
Publisher: Kat Ross

Chapter 10

We all turned to look at my housekeeper, who looked blandly back.

“Well, Mrs. Mason is a medium,” she said, toying with the strings on her bonnet. “She’s also Miss Rickard’s sister. That’s a powerful connection. And we may not have known Becky personally, but we care very much what happened to her. Why not hold a séance and ask her ourselves what happened?”

I opened my mouth to politely object but John cut in before I had a chance.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” he said. “If Mrs. Mason is willing, of course.”

Rose looked at each of us in turn, although I can’t say what she was searching for.

“I’ve considered it,” she said. “Of course I have. But there are dangers in reaching out to spirits that died by violence. They’re unpredictable. Angry. And if they’ve failed to go on to the other side, if they linger in the twilight plane between our world and the next…Suffice to say that the restless dead are not the only ones who dwell in that place. There are other entities, far more dangerous. We run the risk that they too will answer the call.”

I didn’t trust myself to say anything, so I kept quiet. The poor woman had been through a great deal and I had no wish to insult her beliefs.

I also had had enough of séances. Just the memory of that day with Edward made my back ache.

But John was determined, and he had a staunch ally in Mrs. Rivers.

“We have to try, don’t you think?” he said. “I know it’s unorthodox”—this comment was aimed at me—”but we might actually find something out. Open mind, Harry.”

“I’ll confess, the idea does make me a tad nervous, but I’m willing,” Mrs. Rivers said.

“Are you certain?” Rose asked. “As I said, the risks are real. Most of the mediums here wouldn’t even attempt it. Not so soon.”

Privately, I felt the biggest “risk” was to my self-respect, but with the others staring at me, I finally nodded assent. It couldn’t do any harm, at least. And maybe John would be forced to admit that the whole thing was a load of eye-wash.

“We’ll hold it tonight,” Rose said decisively. “After the picnic. It’s only been a week since she died. Her spirit won’t have gone far from the first gate yet.” She stood. “I’ll begin the preparations.”

We made our goodbyes and walked back to the Grand Hotel. My feet felt heavy as lead. The more I considered it, the more reluctant I was to take part in the séance. It was ridiculous. The other séances hadn’t bothered me in the least. I’d found them by turns silly and boring.

The difference, I realized as we climbed the steps to the shaded veranda, is that we hadn’t been trying to summon a real person. A person who had been viciously stabbed and bitten. Who had died in just about the worst way it’s possible to die.

“Are you all right?” John asked, concern in his eyes. “You look awfully pale.

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