Some Enchanted clair : A Magical Bakery Mystery (9780698140561) (12 page)

Without warning, the loud chirps of crickets filled the room. We all looked around in surprise, and then the sound abruptly ceased. Ben ducked his head over the cell phone in his hand.

“Er, sorry,” he said.

“That's okay,” Ursula said. “It's the perfect reminder that we all need to turn off our cell phones.”

Ben flashed a white-toothed smile at Ursula and nodded before returning the phone to the inside pocket of his sports coat.

Declan retrieved his cell and began pushing buttons. Out of habit, the members of the spellbook club had already turned ours off the same way we did before casting together. Steve, no doubt, had done the same, and Althea would already be aware of her personal psychic's preferences.

Including not drinking wine before a séance, which apparently she didn't feel was all that important.

Mimsey leaned toward me. “It feels like we should cast a circle,” she whispered. “To keep everyone safe.”

Ursula's eyebrow arched; she'd heard.

I reached across the table and patted the older woman's hand. “I'm sure it will be all right.”

Ursula murmured to me, “You're a witch? Suddenly a few things make more sense. Are these friends of yours . . . ?”

I gave a little nod, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to our conversation. No one except Althea down at the other end of the table appeared to be, but she was too far away to hear our low tones. “Are you okay with that?”

Her smile was wide and genuine, but she spoke so quietly I had to scoot my chair closer in order to catch the words. “Absolutely. I wanted extra power in order to reach Simon tonight, and a coven of witches is just the ticket.” She laughed, the notes falling like crystals into the air. Heads turned.

“Shh,” I said, my eyes cutting subtly toward Althea.

The actress took a drink of wine, her eyes never leaving my face. Despite her apparent curiosity, however, I was relieved to note she didn't seem to be aware of what we were talking about. Her interest struck me as proprietary, given how she'd referred to Ursula as “my psychic,” perhaps with a little jealousy in the mix.

Mimsey was leaning over to hear Ursula, too. Now the psychic whispered to her, “Don't worry. I'll invoke something very similar to your protective circle. My guides will guard us as well as serve as conduits to the other side.”

Mimsey sat back with a satisfied nod.

Ursula clapped her hands twice, and the low undercurrent of whispers around the table quieted. “It's time to begin. It's not imperative, but if you're comfortable with the idea, please take the hand of the person next to you. If you don't want to, for whatever reason, don't feel obligated and no one will judge you.” She looked each person seated at the table in the eye, conveying the order they were not to judge.

Declan's fingers already gripped mine, and I held my other hand out to Ursula, who took it with a smile. No one else seemed to have a problem with holding hands except Althea, who seemed more than fine with holding Steve's hand but refused to offer her other hand to Bianca, who sat on her other side.

Did I judge her for it?

Yep.

Bianca merely pressed her lips together for a moment, then shrugged and held her hand out to Ben, who readily enveloped it in his own.

Ursula looked around at each of us before nodding to no one in particular, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the high back of the chair. “I respectfully ask my spirit guides to honor us with their presence this evening, to surround this gathering and protect us all from harm and undue influence.” She waited. We all waited. I could sense the heightened awareness as the entire group strove to hear or see something from beyond.

She began to sway, and her eyelids fluttered. “Now, settle down, everyone.”

Was she talking to us?

The atmosphere in the room seemed to thicken, the smell of beeswax sharpening in my nostrils. The slightest of breezes moved through my hair and made the shadows cast by the candle flames cavort crazily across the walls, ceiling—and us.

Ursula's eyes opened, and a grimace quirked up one corner of her mouth. “I was afraid of this.”

“What's wrong?” Declan asked with obvious skepticism. Althea immediately made a loud shushing sound.

Ursula waved away her employer's concern, however, not noticing how furious her gesture made the actress. “This house is inhabited by many ghosts, both those who have not completely passed the veil for whatever reason and those who have come back to protect or communicate with those still living. I've known of them since we began staying here, but didn't feel it was my place to remedy the situation, instead asking my own guides to—well, run interference, if you will. But so many of you have strong psychic powers, and the spirits are clamoring to be heard.”

“You never told me about all these extra spirits,” Althea protested. “And you've read for me here twice.”

“They weren't relevant to our work,” Ursula answered patiently. “Now they are.”

“Are they here for us?” my aunt asked, and I knew she was hoping to talk to my nonna.

Ursula shook her head. “No. These spirits are attached to this property, either to the house itself or to the land before it was built.”

Lucy quickly wiped the disappointment from her face.

“Now,” the psychic continued. “I'm going to ask them to let us go on with our work tonight without interruption.” She bowed her head, and while her eyes remained open, they went vacant as she stared at the expanse of tablecloth. Her fingers tightened over mine. It felt like a signal. I closed my own eyes and concentrated on funneling power through our locked hands. Ursula jerked slightly as if shocked; then she seemed to lean into what I was offering. Additional power from the others around the table joined ours, and I recognized the signatures of the other members of the spellbook club.

And Steve. We'd worked together only a few times, but they had been significant, and I knew the feel of his power the same way that I knew his smile.

Another vibration was familiar yet not, tentative and inconsistent. I made a note of it and moved on, narrowing my focus to Ursula and the task at hand.

The impression of winging entities, vaguely human, flitted through my mind. At least a dozen of them. Others, a much smaller group of three, joined our effort. One of the smaller group felt very inhuman, though I couldn't have said how. Lighter. Brighter.

These are her guides.
I reached out to the one that felt so strange.
Who are you? What are you?

An impression of a word, not even the word itself came to me.

Angel.

And then from that entity:
Employ your power, Katie Lightfoot.

I joined the others and
pushed
the house spirits away. Not far away, though. Out of the room, but, I suspected, not even out of the building.

Ursula opened her eyes. “Okay. We've established a perimeter within which we can work.”

Much like the spellbook club would have cast a protective circle.
Nice
. In our work, we even invoked the help of the archangels. Not that I'd had a chance to actually communicate with any of them.
Was that really Ursula's personal angel? Or something else? Could I have imagined it?
I shook my head.

“Now I'm going to attempt to summon Simon,” the psychic said. “Again, I'll need your help.”

We looked around at one another, and I sensed Declan's apprehension.

“We're going to focus our attention on the Simon that each of us knew,” Ursula went on. “That means we will each be focusing on something a little different because no one is the same person to everyone.”

“What if we didn't know him at all?” Jaida asked.

Ursula answered, “Then focus on the Simon you've heard of, or, if you have experience with focusing in a group, you can employ whatever technique you use then.”

Jaida blinked. She flashed a glance at me, and I gave her a barely perceptible nod. Yes, Ursula knew we were witches and therefore assumed we'd worked together in the past. Jaida's lips parted briefly, but she quickly recovered.

“Does everyone have an idea—an image, an impression, even something you've heard about Simon Knapp that you can tap into?”

Murmurs of agreement all around, some more enthusiastic than others.

“Okay. Now close your eyes to better concentrate.”

One of Declan's eyebrows lifted, and I doubted he'd follow her directions. Not that it mattered. He might think she was trying to pull one over on us, but after linking with her posse of spirit guides, I was convinced Ursula was the real deal. Closing our eyes would only help.

“Now, with that idea of Simon in mind, I want you to repeat after me,” she said. Her voice took on a dreamy intonation. “We respectfully call upon you, Simon Knapp, to grace us with your presence tonight.”

Dutifully, we repeated her words. She said them again, and again we repeated, “We respectfully call upon you, Simon Knapp, to grace us with your presence.”

Over and over, until it was no longer a call and repeat but all of us chanting together. An objective part of me realized we sounded like a roomful of idiots. I peeked at Declan, whose eyes were wide open and darting around the room and at the participants. His lips moved, but I was pretty sure he wasn't vocalizing. Steve, too, opened his eyes, noticed Declan, then looked at me. Understanding passed between us at the same time I felt the intention that was riding on our words grow stronger. No longer did I care if we looked crazy.

Whatever we were doing was working.

Suddenly Ursula grew quiet, and our final call to Simon trailed off at the end. The room grew weirdly silent after the myriad voices mingling together, saying the same words again and again. Into that quiet, Ursula said, “Hello? Simon?”

We all waited. A breeze shifted through the room again, and the candles flickered.

She nodded. “Yes. Simon is here.”

I felt Declan tense beside me. I squeezed his fingers and realized I wasn't exactly breathing normally, either. Excitement and curiosity trilled through me. I inhaled deeply and then let the air out.

Ursula's eyes were still mostly closed, but I could see them glitter through her long lashes. Her face was calm, her expression alert and expectant. ”Simon wants to know why we summoned him.”

“Seriously?” I muttered, then cleared my throat when no one else answered. “Um, hi there, Simon. Katie Lightfoot here. Remember me?”

Ursula's face remained impassive.

“I'm sorry I only got to meet you the one time, you know, before you got killed and all,” I babbled. “Kind of funny that I'm even here, trying to get ahold of you, I suppose. Maybe you're wondering about that.” My words tumbled over one another, and I felt awkward with a capital
A
. Who was I to ask Simon who murdered him, anyway? I couldn't very well refer to Ursula's prediction in front of everyone. I stared hard at the psychic, trying to let her know I needed her help, but she seemed completely unaware of my presence.

Or anyone else's.

“Mr. Knapp, can you tell us the name of your murderer?” Ben asked, bypassing all my blithering.

Thank goodness.

There was a long, tense silence as we waited for the answer.

Ursula's hand gripped mine harder, and the muscles in her neck flexed. “Simon has something he wants me to pass on,” she intoned. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought she was being overdramatic. Heck, maybe she was, out of habit. There had to be a certain amount of showmanship associated with her profession.

“Simon says . . .”

We all leaned toward Ursula.

“Simon says . . .”

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” Althea said in a loud voice and suddenly stood. “I know you used to like to play
Simon Says
, Knapp, but this isn't a children's game!” She emphasized her words with an unsteady jab of her finger. Unfortunately, that hand also held her glass, and a crimson dollop of wine splashed out to land on the tablecloth. We all stared at her with varying expressions of horror.

“Lord have mercy,” Mimsey exclaimed under her breath.

“Althea,” Steve hissed, reaching for her elbow.

She jerked away from him, miraculously avoiding another spill. “You be quiet, Stevie. Ursula has worked her magic. Now we need an answer. Who killed you, Simon? Just
tell
us so we can call up the police and let them know your ghost told us who they should arrest.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

Ursula's eyelids fluttered and then popped open. “He's gone.”

“Oh, sure,” the actress said, throwing her arms wide. Steve grabbed her glass and set it on the table. “He's just kidding around, aren't you, Simon? Never did like being told what to do, did you?”

The psychic released my hand and Mimsey's at the same time while gaping at her employer. “What is the matter with you, Althea? Were you trying to make him leave? Because I assure you Simon Knapp's spirit is long gone now.”

My shoulder slumped.
Gone
. “Can you get him back?” I asked. Nods all around.

“Well, I'm afraid you can do it without me,” Althea said, taking an unsteady step toward the door. “I've had a very long day and have to get up early in the morning.” With that, she tossed her head and strode out of the room as fast as her stilettos would carry her.

Looking an apology at all of us, Steve rose and followed her, closing the door behind him.

The room erupted into conversation. “What was that all about?” Bianca asked, while Lucy wondered, “Do you think she purposefully drove him away?”

Why would Althea disrupt the séance? Did she think Simon would reveal her as his murderer—or was she afraid he might reveal something else, something only a fixer would know?

The image of Althea with her mystery man in the wardrobe tent flashed across my mental movie screen, and I guiltily wondered if I should tell Steve. We were friends, after all, and he'd look out for me the same way if the situation was ever reversed.

Declan squeezed my hand. “Was there really a spirit here?”

“I think so.” My eyes met Ursula's and she nodded. “Will he come back?” I asked.

“I can try. He seemed awfully angry, though. Quiet, everyone. Let's give this another go.”

Althea's querulous voice cut through the door, making it that much harder to concentrate.

“Good goddess,” I muttered before closing my eyes again. “That woman is a first-class pain.”

We tried the chanting again, but it felt lame all over again, falling on dead air. It soon became apparent Simon's spirit was too offended to grace us with his presence again. Ursula opened her eyes and shook her head. Our voices trailed off.

Suddenly her eyes darted to the left. “Hello?” she asked. “May I ask who you are?” She seemed to listen; then her eyes cut to me. “Yes, I've heard of you.”

Taite?
My heart pummeled my ribs.

Then I smelled the sweet fragrance of gardenia.
Not Taite. Nonna.
The floral scent grew stronger.

“Smell that?” I asked Declan.

Frowning, he shook his head.

“Lucy? Do you smell it?” I asked.

My aunt leaned forward, her face shining. “Mama?”

Ursula's lips curved up in a smile. “Yes, it's your mother. Is there anything you'd like to say to her?”

Lucy's eyes welled. “Only that I miss you, Mama. And I hope you're happy over there.”

A pause, then Ursula said, “She says she is. She says she watches over you as well as Katie and . . . Mary Jane?”

I nodded. “That's my mother.”

“She says to pass on her love to Mary Jane and that's she's sorry she hasn't been in contact with you directly, Lucy, but that you haven't needed her in the same way.”

A tear spilled down my aunt's cheek, and she whispered, “Oh, that's okay, Mama. I understand.”

“Nonna,” I called. “Can you tell us what happened to Simon?”

The psychic paused before shaking her head. “She can't help us with that. She says she simply wanted to say hello, given this opportunity.”

I laughed. “Figures.”

Ursula took a deep breath and distributed a look between Lucy and me. “She's gone.”

Uncle Ben, looking a bit baffled, scooted his chair close, put his arm around Lucy, and pulled her to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, still beaming.

Mimsey patted her hand. “I told you,” she said, and I wondered whether Lucy had confided her disappointment that Nonna had contacted my mother and me but not her youngest daughter.

“I think we're done for tonight,” Ursula said. “I'm sorry it didn't work out—” She stopped.
“What?”

Her gaze swung to Declan, who, I realized, no longer held my hand. I turned to look at him, and what I saw made my heart stutter. He gripped the arms of his chair so hard, his fingers were white. His head leaned against the back of the chair, lips parted, eyes rolled back so that only the whites showed. I heard Jaida suck in a surprised breath as I thought:
seizure
.

There were gasps around the table. “Deck!” Ben exclaimed and leaped to his feet.

“No!” Ursula said. “Don't touch him.”

But I did anyway, putting my hand on his arm. The contact blasted power through me, and I lurched in my chair. The familiar-yet-not signature I'd felt earlier swept over my psyche, and I realized it was Declan.

Declan? My Declan?

He blinked, his head dropped, and his baby blues found mine. They sparkled and danced in a way I'd never seen, and I found myself unable to look away. “Katie, m' darlin'! How I've admired you from afar!” Gone was my boyfriend's sorghum-laced accent, replaced with the playful lilt of a native Irish speaker. His voice was much higher, as well, and disturbingly nasal.

“Who are you?” Ursula asked. My heart spasmed again. She was right. This was my boyfriend's body, but no longer was Declan running the show.

“Connell O'Donohue, at your service! I'm this boyo's great-great-uncle, don't you know. Been watching over him since he was a wee lad.”

Like Nonna. Only Connell felt . . . different. And unlike Nonna,
he was
possessing
my
boyfriend
. I gripped Declan's arm tighter.

Those blue eyes I knew so well flashed, and he let loose a high-pitched chortle. “Now, don't you worry, Katie. I'll only be a moment—or two! Ah! It's such a luxury to be what you would call corporeal again, though. How I've missed it!”

“Is that why you're here?” Ursula asked in a tense voice. I didn't like the worry that pinched the skin around her eyes. “Or did you have a message for one of us?”

He sighed. “Only for my great-great-nephew. To tell him I'm glad he finally found a woman worthy of his attention, who will embrace his gifts even if he won't.” He winked at me. “And that now he has to make sure he's worthy of her attention, as well.”

“All right. Thank you.” Ursula's tone was gently dismissive.

“Oh. I see. You don't want me to stay!” Connell sounded angry now.

“Please,” I said. “Where is Declan?”

“Well, begorra! Did you think I wouldn't be lettin' yer man come back to you? Ah, Katie darlin'. I see I've worried you unnecessarily. All right. I'll go now.”

Declan's head arched against the back of the chair again and then fell forward. He gasped for air, and when he looked at me again, panting, it was my sweet guy looking at me from his eyes. I threw my arms around him and held on tight. Jaida reached over and rubbed his shoulder, instinctively murmuring words of comfort.

When I let go, everyone was staring at us in alarm except Ursula, whose concern had turned to amusement. “Well, that was quite the show, Mr. McCarthy.”

He licked his lips.

“Do you remember?” she asked.

He finally managed, “I think so. Connell.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “What the hell happened?”

“You,” she said with satisfaction, “are one of those rare people who can not only hear the spirits, but can actually channel them. I can't even do that.”

“No.” He shook his head again. “That's not possible.”

“A true medium,” she said. “Very rare, indeed, to have the precisely right vibrations to allow a spirit to occupy your physical self.”

Declan blinked at her in disbelief. I knew the feeling. I'd felt the same way when Lucy had told me I was a witch.