In the Shadow of Blackbirds(61)

“What?”

“Should I go?” asked Mr. Darning.

“No, please, not yet.” I lugged the case over to the game table in front of the windows. “I want you to see the compass, and I want Aunt Eva to witness it, too.”

With hesitation, Mr. Darning rested his brown derby hat on the sofa and approached the compass. Aunt Eva crept our way with her mouth pinched tight and her hands on her hips. Oberon whistled and squeaked.

The photographer leaned over the device and rubbed his gauze-covered chin, and I noticed he smelled like the fine leather seats of an automobile. Out the window, I could see a shiny red touring car with a foldable top parked beneath our streetlamp.

He drew a sharp breath. “Ahhh, yes. I see what you mean.”

The needle pointed squarely at me.

“Ahhh, yes! This is absolutely fascinating, Miss Black. Absolutely fascinating.”

“The needle even stays on me when I move.” I stepped around to the right side of the table, holding out my arms as if I were walking a tightrope. Mr. Darning backed out of the way for me, and I crossed over to the left. The needle followed my movement like a devoted duckling.

Aunt Eva watched and gasped. “I had no idea that was happening. When did you discover this?”

“When I came home from the hospital.”

“Hmm, I wonder …” Mr. Darning returned to the compass and pressed his hands against the case. “Did the lightning change your magnetic field? Or did your experience of momentarily dying—of becoming a temporary spirit, as it were—do this to you? Is your soul having trouble settling back inside your body?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I haven’t yet found any information about the otherworldly effects of getting struck by lightning.”

“You say the needle also follows Stephen when you think he’s around?” he asked.

Aunt Eva gasped again. “What?”

“It does.” I nodded. “Once, the needle moved everywhere, like he was upset or confused. Another time it pointed to his photographs hanging on my wall.”

Mr. Darning shook his head in amazement. “This is remarkable. Like MacDougall’s scale experiments on the dying. I’m so impressed with all of this.” He rubbed his arms and tittered like a schoolboy. “You’ve given me gooseflesh.”

“You don’t think I’m going out of my head with grief, then?” I asked.

“This needle seems to be telling us otherwise, doesn’t it?” His eyes beamed at me. “Would you bring the compass to my studio Monday and let me photograph the way you affect it? Better yet, I’ll bring my own compass so I know nothing’s being rigged.”

“But you dislike supernatural photography,” said Aunt Eva.

“I dislike fakes. As with everyone else, I’d love to find proof of the survival of the spirit beyond death. Maybe Mary Shelley’s body is demonstrating that the soul exists as a magnetic field.” He leaned his elbows against the table and bent even closer to the apparatus. “Come to my studio Monday, say around ten o’clock in the morning, and I’ll record what you’re experiencing. Bring Stephen’s photographs as well, and we’ll see if we can attract signs of him.”

“All right.” I peeked at my aunt’s bloodless face. “As long as Aunt Eva doesn’t mind me leaving the house again.”

“Let’s see what the flu does to our block first. We might not even be here Monday.” She massaged her forehead with her hands balled into fists. “I hate to be rude, Mr. Darning, but I’m overwhelmed by everything that’s been happening and really need to feed Mary Shelley her onions.”

“Please, don’t let me keep you.” Mr. Darning tore his eyes off the needle and fetched his hat from the sofa. “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but this has been remarkable. Thank you for allowing me to be a witness.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Darning.” I followed Aunt Eva and him to the door. “Did my other photograph reveal anything?”

“No—oh, I forgot to bring that with me. I’ll give that to you on Monday as well.”

“Nothing peculiar showed up, then?”

“I’m afraid not. But let’s not give up. I think we’re on to something here. Perhaps we’ll open an unchecked door in the world of psychical research.”

I smiled. “Thank you so much for coming. I feel better now that I’ve shown the compass to someone with your background.”

We said our good-byes, and Aunt Eva allowed him to slip out a small crack in the door before she locked us up again.

She grabbed me by the sleeve and pulled me close. “You should have told me he was coming.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted and forgot.”

“That’s the second day in a row a man has shown up while I look a mess.”

“You look fine.”

“I have salt hanging out my nose.” She brushed at her nostril.

“I’m sure he understands.”

“That doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.” She pushed me away. “I’m so furious at you for leaving this house, Mary Shelley. What is wrong with you?”

“Stephen didn’t die in battle in October.”

She gawked at me like I was speaking in tongues. “What?”