The Spiritualist (52 page)

“Oh, hardly. It’s like a dream. Some parts come back to me. Others…”

“She asked that I try to spread the word of this miracle, and I believe I’ve thought of a way.”

“Have you?”

“Jourdain was kind enough to suggest some things. I had thought—what do you say to the idea of starting a spiritualist retreat at Saratoga? Everyone who’s anyone will be there this summer—most have left the city already. We’ve stayed so long for you, but why not continue the circles there? It would take some funds, of course, but I daresay I could manage it. And I’ve other friends as well I think I could convince. I would, of course, be most honored if you and Jourdain would help me. Why, to have you preside over the circle there, at least for a time! Oh, I know you’ve your commitments here, especially with the Spiritualist Convention, but New York in the summer is unbearable, and what with the legislature taking over the police and the new liquor laws and Mayor Wood’s posturing, well, the city’s unstable enough now. It may well prove a powder keg these next months.”

“I’m honored that you would consider me. But I hardly think—”

“I’m in a position to pay you quite well for your involvement,” he said quietly. “And Jourdain too, of course.”

“I don’t know that we could leave Dorothy.”

“Saratoga’d be just the thing for her. She’s delighted in it in the past. It’s time she got out of this house, don’t you agree? She seems so much better now. I could procure her a private

rail car.”

I smiled. “I think Dorothy could afford her own car.”

He flushed. “I only meant… I know she’s adopted Jourdain and provided for you quite handsomely, and that you must feel an obligation to her, but she cannot mean to keep you just for herself, Evelyn. The world awaits your gift. Having given it to us, she would be selfish to withdraw it.”

“I owe her a great deal. And she depends upon Michel.”

He reached for my hand again. His palms were moist; he squeezed my fingers hard. “We all owe her, my dear. She helped to discover you. But did you never mean to move on? To share your gift with everyone? To teach us all the wonder of the Summerland?”

“The spirits bid me do as they will,” I said. “But they do tend to look favorably upon generosity”—I touched the sapphires again—“in all its forms.”

“Then I will do all in my power to influence them,” he said.

I drew my hand from his, and nodded to where Rose stood in the doorway. “I believe your wife’s waiting for you.”

Reid bowed once more. “Until the next time, then.”

I followed him to the doorway and watched as he took Rose’s arm and led her from the parlor and down the stairs. I heard the others at the door as they said their good-byes, their exhilarated laughter, their assurances of return, and I felt a heady satisfaction that only grew when their voices disappeared into the night, and the door was closed behind them, and I heard the footsteps I waited for come back up the stairs.

He was nearly to the landing when I said, “I understand the spirits mentioned Saratoga tonight.”

He took the last steps easily. “
Oui
. They did.”

“Reid said he would get a private rail car for Dorothy.”

He laughed. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“And he’d pay quite well for our ‘involvement.’ ”

He came up to me, slipping his arms around me, and I leaned into him. “Ah, I intend so,
chère
. Next time, suggest that a suite would be just the thing—it must be large enough for a circle, eh?”

“Why, that’s up to the spirits. I’m only the conduit.”

“
Oui
, of course. But make him suffer a little first, eh? Tell him we’ll hold no circle next week. What should we say—ah, tell him that with the police so distracted, the streets are too dangerous.”

“He’ll be impatient.”

He lifted the heavy strand of gems around my neck and let them fall again, a gentle thud against my skin. “Impatient men are generous ones. Or haven’t you learned that by now?”

“Should I make you wait, then? Now that you’re a rich Bennett?”

“Rich as Croesus,” he agreed. He kissed the hollow of my throat, brushing his lips against the gold links of my necklace. “And thanks to you,
ma coeur
, about to be richer.”

I took his head in my hands. My fingers tangled in the silkiness of his hair. I kept his mouth close against me. “And then? After that—what will we do then?”

“Whatever we wish. I told you once we could have the world. We’re just beginning to own it. Would you stop now?”

“No,” I said. “No.”

I felt him smile against my skin. “I thought not. You’re a wolf like me after all, Evie. Will you finally admit it?”

I closed my eyes. I remembered the look that had been on his face as he’d pulled the trigger that night, and I knew what he’d done for me. It was what I would have done for him, given the chance, had I been able to reach the gold-chased penknife I’d hidden in the pocket of the dressing gown, had I a single moment longer. I wondered: had the spirits known that when they sent Michel to me? Had they known this guide of theirs would fit me so well? Had they seen the affinity between us?

It hardly mattered, I supposed. The spirits were as capricious and selfish in their world as they had been in ours. Their purposes were their own. The only truth was whatever you could make someone believe.

“Come to bed,” I said to him, and then I took his hand and led him there.

Tomorrow was soon enough to own the world.

How we would make it dance.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2008 by Megan Chance

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

www.crownpublishing.com

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HREE
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IVERS
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RESS
and the Tugboat design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chance, Megan.

eISBN: 978-0-307-40923-2

v1.0