Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(16)

No draperies adorned the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the fog pushing against the glass was curtain enough. Sam could make out a variety of paintings along the wall, but couldn’t discern their subjects. Oddly, some seemed to be frames with no art, and there were blank places where it looked as if pieces had once hung. But the shadows prevented closer inspection.

Mariah pressed Sam down in a chair at the head of a long table while the others flitted about, seeking positions between her and Tullah, who took the other end.

Did feeling weird mean that this might be the weirdest moment of her life?

“Join hands,” Tullah ordered in the same perfectly matter-of-fact voice she’d used when telling Sam to wear the sprigged skirt. “It’s late, and our guest is tired, so let’s keep this quick and focused.”

The marmalade cat leaped to Sam’s lap, then climbed to the table. She curled up in the center. Mariah had said the cat had escape hatches. Good thing, if so, because Sam sure hadn’t been around much to look after her.

Mariah held her right hand. Susan, a grandmotherly woman with a cheerful smile and a head full of curls, took Sam’s left.

The lights went out. Since everyone was at the table, holding hands, there had to be a switch in the floor. Sam had a feeling this wasn’t the first time the ladies had held a séance here.

“Spirit of the vortex, speak,” Tullah commanded in a low, reassuring tone. “Tell us who you are.”

Sam felt ridiculous. She concentrated on the warmth of the two hands she held. That the hands of strangers held comfort worried her a little. Had she been a lonely student? Had she had lovers?

“He is here,” Susan said suddenly. Her hand now felt cool and moist. “He senses our guest.”

Well now there was a great opening for a scam. Excite the newcomer, get her invested in the outcome, then start making demands. How did she know this? Or was that just scientific skepticism?

“Name yourself, spirit,” Tullah inserted into the following silence.

The cat stretched and walked down the table to one of the women to whom Sam hadn’t been introduced. Buxom, with graying auburn hair, she wore tangles of gold and garnet beads. Emma batted her head against the woman’s chin.

“He’s not clear,” the beaded lady said in a low contralto. “He’s been gone too long.”

A rustle of disappointment whispered around the room. Sam felt Susan’s palm grow clammier. Mariah squeezed her other hand as if to reassure.

“Evil,” Tullah said in a guttural tone unlike her own. “He speaks of evil.”

“Tullah has a spirit guide,” Mariah whispered in explanation.

“Evil must be cleansed,” the spirit guide said.

“How?” Mariah asked.

Startled by this sensible question to an insensible speech, Sam almost released her grip. Both Mariah and Susan tightened theirs. An almost visible ripple of excitement circled the table.

“Fire and serpents,” the guttural voice responded sadly. “Fire cleanses.” A hesitation, followed by a sharper, less dolorous tone—“Tell his son to beware.”

The sconces abruptly flickered back on, and the women dropped Sam’s hands. Susan surreptitiously wiped hers on her skirt, and Mariah frowned.

“Well, that wasn’t helpful,” Valdis said in disdain. “We really need Cass. She can translate even the most reluctant spirit.”

“That was more than enough for me.” Deciding a master of environmental science would be firm and decisive in the face of lunacy, Sam stood and scooped up Emma. “Even I know that fire up here would be more devastating than cleansing.”

“We’ll have to wait for police to learn the spirit’s identity before we can find and warn his son,” Mariah said worriedly. “Tullah, are you all right?”

The thrift store owner raised her palm. “Nothing a good whisky won’t help. See our guest home. We already know that evil walks our town, and we need to look out for each other.”

Holding a purring Emma, Sam didn’t feel the fear she was probably supposed to feel. “If evil is real, then there are plenty of other places in this world that need to be burned,” she said as they walked past flickering sconces to the front door. “I thought serpents were supposed to be evil.”

“And I thought the devil thrived on fire,” Mariah agreed cheerfully. “Séances are seldom useful. And Val is right, Cass’s are better, but I’m pretty sure she adds her own spin to the spirit’s words.”

Relieved that she wasn’t the only skeptic, Sam set Emma down when they reached the door at the top of the stairs to the studio. She rummaged in her purse and retrieved the ring with her car keys and an unidentified locker-type key, along with the studio key she’d added to it. Hiding keys under geranium pots negated the purpose of a lock in her opinion. Emma sniffed at the flowers on the tiny balcony as Sam unlocked the door. “Do you have a ride home? It seems a little ridiculous to walk each other back and forth.”

“I know these paths better than evil does,” Mariah said with a chuckle. “There’s a shortcut by the rose bed, leads past my place and into town. Safer than walking the road.”

“I’ll watch from up here.” Sam gestured at the stucco wall above the roses. “Holler if you meet evil.”

“I’ll blink my front door light when I’m home. That’s what I do for Cass.”