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Authors: Brian Mercer

Aftersight (18 page)

BOOK: Aftersight
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****

I shut my eyes and waited. The room beyond my closed eyelids was silent but not empty. I could hear the quiet breathing of my classmates, the wind pressing into the windows, the afternoon rain tapping against the glass. I tried to keep my mind clear, but I felt self-conscious. The half-dozen students in my mediumship class weren't staring at me. Everyone's eyes were closed, too, but I still felt their attention on me.

I smelled cedar, as vague and directionless as a whiff of perfume, before it faded into the ever-present Waltham scent of furniture polish and old wood. This couldn't be a coincidence. Jenny wouldn't be far away. I just hoped that it was Jenny that came through and not one of the other spirits that I'd been hearing the past several months. The others freaked me out. The thought of actually
inviting
them to contact me felt like playing Blind Man's Bluff, stretching out my hand, groping in the dark; but inviting them to speak was exactly what I was doing.

Mediumship was my last class of the day. It was made up solely of students from the new class: Liza, Mindy, Johanna, and Nicole. With the exception of Nicole, who'd had the ability to see spirits all her life, the other girls' powers had come about relatively recently. Like me, the other newbies found themselves harassed at all hours of the day and night by spirits desperate to be acknowledged and talked to. Like me, the other girls were suffering from degrees of acute stress disorder. By intentionally inviting the spirits to communicate with us under safe conditions, our instructors hoped to put an end to the around-the-clock badgering. The idea was that if the spirits had an appointed time and place when they could talk to us, they wouldn't need to pester us the other twenty-three hours of the day.

I felt the presence of others in the room, the presence of more than just the girls in my class. Because I could only hear spirits and in some cases sense their odors (most of the others could
see
them) their sudden appearance usually scared the cheese out of me. I didn't think I'd ever get used to the moments of quiet alone-time suddenly shattered by a full-throated voice speaking directly in my ear. It's true, I had seen a spirit once — on the drive home from Gwen's house that night — but all my other encounters had just been voices.

Yet now I perceived fuzzy movement beyond the blackness of my closed eyes, human-like silhouettes approaching from the front and to the sides. Gooseflesh rose on my arms. My hands trembled. Had it just gotten colder in here or was it my imagination? I gripped my armrests, trying to keep myself from bolting out of my chair.

I waited for what felt like several minutes, trying and failing to keep my breathing steady. The spirits seemed to be drawn to me like moths circling a porch light, but none were willing to venture too near. Like the other girls in class, who hadn't had much success today, I wasn't doing much better.

"Try to relax," said Piper, our willowy, brown-haired instructor. Her soft, British accent was light and playful. "Cringing won't help put the spirits at ease." The other girls in class giggled. "All right then," she went on, "Nicole, why don't you have a go?"

The tension inside me drained away. As usual, that's when something happened.

"I'm lost,"
someone said in barely a whisper. A young girl's voice. Maybe a teenager.
"I'm so afraid. Won't you help me?"
My senses were flooded with the overpowering stench of smoke. Not cigarette smoke but like a campfire. Or a
forest
fire. I shivered through my trembling.

"There's a young girl fixin' to get our attention," Nicole explained to the group. "She's standin' behind Becky."

Whoever had spoken before was sobbing quietly. A wave of complete loneliness and despair enveloped me like a cold patch of air. Tears flowed from my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

"No one pays attention to me anymore,"
the girl continued.
"I'm in service. I'm su
p
posed to do my duties, but everyone ignores me."
The girl's voice sounded both English and foreign at the same time. Her pronunciation was barely understandable.

"Tell us about her," Piper prompted.

"She's maybe thirteen or fourteen. She's wearin' a wool dress and rough leather shoes and she's got somethin' like a bonnet on. Seems like she's been here a long time." In a soft voice, Nicole asked the unseen presence. "You okay, honey? Can we help ya?"

The crying continued from behind me, broken now and again by a hoarse cough, as if the young girl's lungs were congested beyond her ability to take in air. She wheezed and wheezed, as if trying to catch her breath. Gradually, the sound and the overpowering smoky smell receded.

"Okay, she's gone now," Nicole said. "She was coughin', but I didn't get the impression that she'd been sick. Seems to me she crossed quite sudden."

"I was getting smoke," I added. "A smoky smell."

"There was a fire on the property a long time ago," Piper explained. "Not on this site but in the vicinity. The old manor house burnt down and many servants and a few family members perished in the smoke and flames. We'll occasionally get a lost soul in here who still doesn't quite know what happened to them, but they never stay long." She hummed thoughtfully. "All right then, you can open your eyes. You did quite well for your first day, what with being in a new place with people you're not quite comfortable with. It'll get easier. You'll see."

I opened my eyes to take in our young, pretty instructor. I admired Piper's refined accent, her poise and confidence. She reminded me of Catalina Romero, the Waltham graduate I'd met in Connecticut the night I'd been introduced to Sir Alex. Like Catalina, Piper made me think that I could have that confidence someday, too.

Piper walked us through the energy technique that would bring our class sessions to a close in the weeks and months to come. We needed to return our full attention back to our bodies and clear out any residual energy that we might have picked up from the entities we were trying to contact. In the back of the room, David — Piper's assistant — stood near the door, his eyes closed meditatively, monitoring the room for anything unsavory that might be lingering behind. He was acting as control, making certain the room was well-grounded and protected.

We spent several minutes calling our personal energy back to ourselves. I guess it shouldn't have surprised me, but as images of Mom and home filled my head I realized that much of my energy was still back in Connecticut. Wow, I sure did miss those guys! I hated to let them go and bring all of myself back to England, but Piper emphasized how dangerous it could be if we weren't fully present and in the moment.

It was almost dark by the time class finished. The west-facing windows showed Waltham's park-like landscape in varying shades of grey. The rain had stopped but the wind continued to play in the leafless trees, making them look restless and unsettled. It made me think of the young girl standing behind me during our session and I wondered what it was like to feel so lost and confused.
Scratch that. I know pretty much what that's like, don't I?

"Well, honey, we survived our first day." Nicole joined me at the window. "What did ya think?"

"It was... it was okay, I guess." I wiped a light crusting of tears from my face. "A little scary, but okay."

"It'll get better," Nicole promised. "You're just startin'. You'll get the hang of it."

Piper and David began turning on lamps and the room filled with a warm yellow light.

"I was thinkin', maybe we should head back to our rooms before supper and—" Nicole paused in mid-stride. "Charlie's tellin' me somethin'."

"Charlie?"

"Charlie's my spirit guide."

I'd heard her talk about Charlie before. Nicole had explained about her spirit guide during dinner our first night at Waltham but she'd never mentioned him in present tense like this.

"Follow me."

Nicole led me to the far end of the room, where an antique shoji screen partitioned off a cozy little area. Beyond it stood two floor lamps, a sofa, and a pair of reading chairs. Nicole walked directly to the narrow table behind the sofa, where a large leather book had been prominently placed. The cover read
Heavenly Sweetness
.

"This," Nicole declared. "He wants me to see this."

The tome was as thick as a library dictionary. Nicole took the cover between her long fingers and gingerly opened it. It turned out that it wasn't a book at all but a box made to look like a book. Its hollow insides were filled with rows of chocolate truffles wrapped in shiny violet foil. A rich chocolate scent mixed with the aroma of roasted hazelnuts drifted from the box.

"I like this Charlie character," I said. "I want a spirit guide."

"Oh, honey, everybody's got a spirit guide," Nicole replied, picking out a pair of chocolates and handing one to me. "I'm sure they'll be a class here at Waltham on how to get in touch with 'em."

The ball of chocolate lingered on my tongue for perhaps five seconds before disintegrating, releasing a cloud of liquid that tasted faintly of toasted hazelnut. "Oh, dear, that
is
heavenly sweetness." I looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed our discovery. "Okay, hand me another one."

When we finished our third truffle, we plopped down on the sofa, happy and satiated.

"Thank you, Nicole. For the chocolate and for everything. I would be so homesick if it wasn't for you and the other girls. I
am
homesick, but being with you guys makes it okay."

"Think nothin' of it, June Bug. It'll be okay. You'll see."

"Listen, can I ask you about something? How long have you known Cali?"

"'Bout six months. We met just after I moved."

"And, she's, you know, okay?"

"Oh, Cali's a little rough around the edges, sure. But don't let that fool ya. She's like these chocolates. Full of sweetness."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it."

"I expect you're a little off kilter with all this new stuff comin' at ya. But don't worry 'bout it. We're in the right place. I knew it the moment I stepped out of the car night before last. We're supposed to be here. This isn't a coincidence. Charlie's been telling me for months that somethin' big was gonna happen. And he's tellin' me still."

Chapter Seventeen

Cali

Waltham Manor

February 19

Sometimes I feel like everything I do is destined for the dumpster. For six months I couldn't stop the out-of-body experiences, no matter how hard I tried, and now that I've tra
v
eled halfway around the world to learn how to do it right, I couldn't flipping get out of my body to save my life.

I looked up from my journal and across the parlor at Nicole, who was sitting behind the grand piano. I was suddenly taken aback by the wall of living sound that rose from the instrument. This was one of my favorites in Nicole's catalogue of songs, something quiet and a little sad. For a few seconds I let go of my frustrations and allowed myself to
feel
the music. It was gentle, like a soft breeze. I'd never liked classical music, but I'd never really listened to it before. What amazed me about it now wasn't so much the sound itself but the beauty that seemed to emerge from Nicole when she played. It was as if Nicole's soul was on display in musical form. Something sorrowful and exquisite and haunting.

Gusts of wind and rain hurtled against the windowpanes, invisible in the darkness. Across from me, Becky sat in a cushy chair, her eyes closed, meditating quietly. It was getting pretty late. A few students from our class had made the trek to our little isolated corner of Waltham to hear Nicole's impromptu concert, but they'd headed off to bed. Tomorrow was Sunday, so I wouldn't have to wake up before the butt-crack of dawn to practice astral projection. No morning meditation session, either. But I didn't think I could stay awake much longer. Between early classes and the all-night racket from our upstairs neighbors, I felt hazy and heavy-eyed.

One thing drives me on,
I wrote.
Chris is here. Or, if not here exactly, then somewhere close by. Some part of my brother lives on. Hints of it are all around me, but I want to be sure. I want to see him for myself. Hear him. Feel him. And I know if I only try hard enough, it'll ha
p
pen.

Nicole brought her sonata to a close with three near-silent chords, each quieter than the last. Becky opened her eyes and smiled. "That was lovely."

"Come here, June Bug, I want to show you somethin'." Nicole patted the bench beside her.

For a moment I thought Nicole was talking to me, but it was Becky who popped out of her chair to join Nicole at the piano. Something in my chest crinkled like a discarded wad of paper. It was like that mixture of excitement and humiliation I used to get in high school when a cute guy waved to me and I'd waved back, only to realize that he'd been waving to someone
behind
me. Why did Nicole's friendship with Becky bother me? It was idiotic, but it didn't take away the lump in my throat or unravel the knot in my chest when I saw them together.

Under Nicole's direction, Becky was plunking out a slow melody on the piano. Each note was like a shard of ice digging into my shoulders.
Sometimes the hardest part about all this meditation stuff,
I scratched in my journal,
is kee
p
ing my energy to myself.

"I've discovered my soul mate!" Sara announced as she burst into the parlor. "He is Nigel P. Huffington III. I didn't want to say anything before now, not until I was sure, but now I know. We've got so much in common. I love animals and anyone can see from the amount of stuffed animals he's brought with him that
he
loves animals, too. His favorite color is pink.
My
favorite color is pink! And, like me, he loves to comb and style hair. He was keen on being a hairdresser before this psychic thing came along. Why, it can't get any plainer than that! We're meant for each other."

BOOK: Aftersight
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ads

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