Unhappy Medium (9 page)

The next thing I came across was a number of newspaper clippings from September 1888. A large headline declared
Shocked Spiritualists Stunned by Maggie Fox’s Exposé.
Another screamed
Renowned Medium Confesses Hoax — Famous Fox Sister States Spiritualism a Fraud!

This was exactly what Alex had been talking about. It couldn’t be a coincidence she had known so much about it. Maybe it was
the contents of this very album that had gotten her so interested in the Spiritualists. Losing all track of time, I absorbed
myself in reading every word of the articles.

The local newspapers reported that Maggie Fox’s revelation had stunned and angered the country, and devastated the Spiritualist
community. Both of the articles mentioned that the owners of the Whispering Pines Mountain House were concerned by the news,
since a Spiritualist medium was residing and doing business there. I guess that’s why they were included in the scrapbook.
Someone named Agatha Kenyon was quoted as saying that she would be recommending to the Kenyon men that all Spiritualists,
including Madame Serena, be henceforth banned from the Mountain House.

There was one other article that caught my eye, a short one. The headline read
Skepticism Greets Madame Serena in the Wake of the Fox Scandal.
The article recapped Maggie Fox’s confession, and related that as the country began to reject the Spiritualists, the local
community had turned against Madame Serena, calling her a fraud and a criminal. It mentioned Agatha Kenyon’s threat to ban
all Spiritualists from the Mountain House, and said that all of Madame Serena’s clients had abandoned her save for one.

I sat up and read the article through again. It was dated December 14th, 1888. There were no other articles in the scrapbook
about Madame Serena or the Spiritualists. Based on all that I’d read, and based on what Madame Serena herself had told me,
I had a more complete idea of why she was stuck here, and the climate surrounding her final days.

Pleased with myself, I leafed through the last few pages of the scrapbook again, and this time I saw something I hadn’t noticed
before. It looked as if the article had been ripped out of the scrapbook, then taped back in, then partially ripped out a
second time. I could make out the headline.

Murder at Whispering Pines — a Diabolical Act on the Famous Resort’s Fifth Floor.

The article had been torn out several lines below the heading. I was only able to make out that a female guest of the hotel
had been murdered. It didn’t give the woman’s name, or the number of the room in which she’d been killed, or any other details.
Whatever else the newspaper had to report had been long since torn away.

But I knew perfectly well which room it was.

The weather went from bad to worse — the sky was an ominous gray-green, and the rain had turned into a heavy downpour.

I grabbed one of my books and went in search of the reading room and its fireplace. Every time I explored the main floor,
another room or corridor seemed to pop up that I’d never seen before. The floor plan resembled a well-played Scrabble game,
with stuff tacked on in any direction it could be squashed in.

I was enjoying exploring, and deliberately chose not to ask an employee how to get to the reading room. It was more fun blundering
around on my own. It made me think of Lucy and her siblings exploring the big country house in
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

During my search, I passed a set of glass double doors with curtains. I could tell from the strains of music coming from inside
that it was the location of Jac’s symposium. I quickly banished thoughts of my best friend from my mind.

I found the reading room at the very end of the hall. It was exactly as I’d pictured it — a kind of plush, Victorian library
with lots of massive armchairs and couches and a really good fire going in the hearth. I could see there was a good seat very
close to the fire, and I happily made my way over to it. When I was almost there, I glanced in the direction of a sound, and
saw two people sitting snugly on a love seat by the window.

The girl was blond and smiley and wore a pink sweater set. A living Barbie doll.

The boy was Colin.

I immediately looked away. I didn’t want them to think I’d seen them. But if I turned around now and walked back past them
to leave the room, I would call attention to myself. Instead, I claimed the comfy seat near the fire, and curled myself in
it so that I was facing in the other direction.

Colin and definitely-not-Jac. Cleo the clarinet player perhaps?

Jac was going to be devastated.

Jac had seemed so sure that the two of them were becoming an item. Was I supposed to tell her about this? It would be useless
at this point — Jac would probably assume I’d made the whole thing up to get back at her.

Don’t think about it right now,
I told myself.
You can’t change it, and you can’t make it better for Jac. It is what it is. Put it out of your mind, and read.

Obedient to the voice in my head, I opened my book and read the first sentence four or five times, without really absorbing
it. I was giving it a sixth try when I sensed someone was approaching me. This was insane. Would Dream Boy actually come over
with his Barbie, knowing I was Jac’s friend?

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt. Say the word and I’m gone.”

I looked up to see Ted standing over me, looking sheepish and appearing especially Cro-Magnonish in the firelight.

“Oh,” I exclaimed. “I mean, no. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

Ted looked anxious.

“So I should go then. That’s cool, Kat. I understand, seriously.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, more quickly than I intended to. “I mean, it’s fine, Ted. You don’t have to go.”

He looked hugely relieved. There was a little footstool next to the fireplace, and he pulled it over and sat down next to
me.

“Did you get the book I left you?”

“Yeah, I did. That was really nice of you — you didn’t have to do that. But it was really interesting.”

“Did you see the stuff about Madame Serena?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

Ted paused, looking uncomfortable.

“Like I said in the note,” he began, then his voice faltered.

“Ted, it’s fine.”

“What I really wanted was to apologize to you in person,” Ted said.

His look was so earnest I couldn’t help smiling.

“I think you just did,” I said.

“I’m not like that,” he said. “I mean, what I said about mediums. I was just blabbering. I was trying to be … convivial.”

“Convivial?” I asked.

“It’s something they teach us here — when we work the Mountain House, we’re not just learning the ropes of running the business,
we’re supposed to be learning people skills.”

Ah. Ted might want to consider taking some extra classes.

“We’re supposed to get along with everybody. And sometimes that means hiding who we are to be more of a generic Joe Blow who
agrees with everything you say kind of a guy. And for some reason I thought the generic Joe Blow response to the Spiritualists
was to laugh at them. I just assumed. It was obviously the worst thing to do. And ironically, that’s totally not how I was
raised.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I have … my family is … oh, it’s complicated. I just have reason to know that people involved
with paranormal stuff, whoever they are — researchers or mediums or healers or whatever — that they are way more regular than
you think. They’re not Madame Serena. They’re people.”

“Of course,” Ted said quickly.

“Anyway … ,” my voice trailed off. It was the preferred Brooklyn Bigelow method of indicating a subject change. I hated
to give credit to Brooklyn for anything, but it worked like a charm.

“There are other scrapbooks, and plenty of papers and photos, if you’re interested,” Ted said. “My mother wrote her doctoral
thesis on the Spiritualists — so we have a lot of books about them.”

“What do you know about Maggie Fox?” I asked.

“Oh, gosh. Margaret Fox. My mom would —”

Ted was interrupted by a huge clap of thunder outside. The lights flickered, then went out.

“Oh no,” he said, getting to his feet. “We’ve lost power. Our generator is being repaired — the timing couldn’t be worse.
I’m sorry, Kat, but they’re going to need extra hands at the front desk. This could be a massive headache. The guests will
be freaking out. I mean … some of the guests. Not you, obviously.”

I smiled.

“Go. Good luck,” I said.

“I’ll find you later,” he called, then sprinted for the door.

“You don’t have to,” I wanted to call after him. Though in truth the Cro-Magnon Boy was starting to grow on me a little.

I heard a giggle. I discreetly peered over my shoulder. The Barbie had responded to the loss of power by snuggling up to Colin
in mock terror. How ridiculous. It was the middle of the day, after all. It wasn’t like the Mountain House had been plunged
into darkness.

I decided to bail on the reading room. I couldn’t concentrate with the lovebirds cuddling in the corner, and witnessing it
made me feel disloyal to Jac. And something had occurred to me. A power outage is an excellent time to have a séance.

All of the electronic stuff we use has the effect of messing up the electric field, making it harder for spirit activity to
come through to our physical plane. That’s why séances are usually held in the dark and at night, when many electronics are
switched off. This might be the perfect time to communicate with Madame Serena, and help her out of her time loop.

I arrived at my room slightly breathless, since the lack of power meant I had to walk up five flights of stairs. I unlocked
my door, went in, and sat on the bed. I opened my mind to the sounds and sensations of being in the room, focusing on the
rain, the thunder, and the smell of the storm until I was completely in the moment.

It’s hard to describe exactly what I do mentally and energetically when I’m trying to communicate with a spirit. Usually,
the spirits just come to me, and I react to them. But sometimes I need to reach a spirit that isn’t currently manifesting.
I kind of imagine myself as a satellite dish, and I broadcast a call to the person I’m trying to reach. I transmit the signal
in every direction. And I wait.

This time, it didn’t take long. Madame Serena blinked into reality right next to me, as smoothly as if she’d just beamed down
from the Starship
Enterprise
.

She didn’t seem to notice I was there, probably because she was too intent on “raising” me herself, her eyes closed and her
lips moving in a silent chant.

“Hi,” I said.

She didn’t hear me.

“I’m here,” I said, a little louder.

Her eyes opened, and her hand flew to her chest.

“Simple Cat!”

Ah. Whatever.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here, Madame Serena.”

She bowed her head.

“I am honored, Simple Cat. Thank you for coming. The Colonel’s wife isn’t here yet, but I’m sure she will be along shortly.
How gratifying it will be to tell her you have come to our circle. She has been so patient in waiting to see Loretta — she
had never accused me, like the others, never …”

“Madame Serena, I need you to listen to me,” I said.

She looked at me, wide-eyed, like I was about to levitate.

“You have been here before,” I said.

“This is my room,” Madame Serena replied. “Of course I’ve been here before, Simple Cat.”

“In this moment. Don’t you realize it? You have been in this moment many times before.”

She looked perplexed.

“Madame Serena, I’m not a spirit,” I explained carefully.

“But you are here, in my circle,” Madame Serena exclaimed. “I summoned you! You are the Guardian of the Sacred Portal of Transmigration.
You are a spirit.”

“I’m not,” I said. “But the thing of it is, one of us is.”

Madame Serena said nothing, just stared at me, her hands shaking slightly.

“Let me explain a little,” I said.

I was really stalling for time. This was the first time I had to look a spirit in the eyes and tell it like it was. I couldn’t
just blurt out “You’re dead.”

“Madame Serena, your … essence is … no longer fully focused in physical reality,” I said.

She stared.

“You have departed,” I offered.

She stared.

“You’ve passed on,” I whispered.

“Simple Cat, you speak cryptically, and I cannot take your meaning,” Madame Serena stated.

“You’re dead,” I said, louder than I meant to. I guess being blunt was the way to go after all.

Madame Serena drew slightly away from me.

“Simple Cat?”

I couldn’t read her expression.

“I’m a medium,” I told her. “Like you … were. And the year is … well, it’s not even the 1900s any more. Quite a bit
of time has passed. You appeared to me outside the Mountain House, then again here in this room. No one else can see you.
Not even the bellboy. But I can. You’re stuck in a moment in time, Madame Serena. But I can help you to move on to the other
side.”

“I’m dead?” Madame Serena asked, incredulously.

My eyes filled with tears. This was horrible! I hated it! What kind of a thing was this to have to do to somebody — tell them
they’d kicked off?

“You are,” I said very gently. “You’re dead, Madame Serena.”

She took a long, deep breath, clasping her hands together. I braced myself. If the furniture was going to fly, it would be
now.

“But that’s …
wonderful
!” Madame Serena cried.

“I … it is?”

“I have longed for ages to see the Summerland,” Madame Serena said, pressing the back of one hand to her forehead. “Everyone
in this life that I have loved has preceded me there. I have no one left in this world. The Colonel’s wife is the only one
who cares for me at all. I have no one else — not a soul. Perhaps that is why I have tried for so many years to lift the veil
to the spirit world. ”

Her eyes clouded slightly.