When the Walls Fell (17 page)

Madame Petrovka’s eyes fluttered closed and she dipped her head. “Our beloved spirits, we bring you gifts from life unto death. Commune with us and move among us. If you are here, give us a sign.”

A long silence followed where all Elizabeth could hear was her own heartbeat.

“We welcome, beloved spirit. Come among us. We reach out to you. Give us a sign.”

A sudden and loud rapping sound from the middle of the table sent a collective gasp through the room.

“We are so pleased you’ve come to us,” Madame Petrovka said. “You are welcome among us, spirit. Do you want to speak to us?”

Another loud knock came.

“Are you familiar with this place?

Another, a little louder than before.

“Can you tell us who you are?”

There was another long pause and then small flowers fluttered down from the ceiling. Violets. Victor Graham’s hand spasmed around hers.

Mary Graham cried out.

“Do not break the circle!”

“This means something to you?” Madame Petrovka prompted.

Mary Graham was softly crying and couldn’t speak. Her husband cleared his throat. “Our… our daughter’s name was Violet.”

“She has passed on?”

“Two years ago,” Graham said softly.

“Beloved spirit,” Madame Petrovka said, “are you Violet Graham?”

There was a long silent pause before a loud, sure knock made Mrs. Graham let out another strangled cry.

“We should stop this,” Victor said, but Mary cut him off.

“No, please.”

Madame Petrovka nodded and closed her eyes. “Violet, you are welcome here. Your parents miss you very much. Would you like to talk to them?”

The rapping on the table came again.

“Yes, I sense her now.”

“Violet,” Mary said through her tears. “We miss you so much, darling.”

Elizabeth was fascinated, but felt like an intruder at the same time. Real or not, this was deeply personal.

“She loved you very much,” Madame Petrovka said. “She… something’s wrong. What’s wrong, Violet?”

“What is it?” Graham asked.

“She’s frightened.”

“It’s all right, darling,” Mary said.

“She’s moving,” Madame Petrovka said. “Why are you running, child? Are you playing a game?”

The chandelier crystals clinked as it shook. A glass clattered against a tray on the far side of the room. A chair moved as it if had been bumped and suddenly Elizabeth felt something ice cold pass through her. She must have gasped because Simon clenched her hand in his and was looking at her with concern.

“I felt her,” Mary cried. “She passed right through me!”

“She seems upset,” Madame Petrovka said. “How did she die?”

Graham answered in a hushed and hoarse voice. “Drowned. She was just four.”

“Sometimes spirits, especially the young, don’t understand what’s happened to them,” Madame Petrovka said. “Are you afraid to cross over, child?”

She appeared to be listening to a voice only she heard. “What’s wrong, child?”

She listened again and her face grew grim. “Everyone must remain calm no matter what should happen next.”

“What’s going on?” Graham demanded.

“She is not alone.”

“What do you mean not alone?” Graham said getting more agitated with every passing second.

“There is a presence with her.”

“We’re here, darling. Don’t be afraid,” Mary said.

“It is whispering to her, always in the shadows.” Abruptly, Madame Petrovka’s demeanor changed. She was stern and angry. “Get away from the other, Violet. Right now!”

“What’s happening to her?” Mary cried as she looked desperately from Madame Petrovka to her husband.

“Tell her to do as I say!”

“Listen to her, Violet,” Mary said, looking around the room trying in vain to see her child in the darkness. “Do what she says. Move away.”

“It’s looking for her. It’s…” Madame Petrovka’s head fell to her chest. Slowly, she raised her head again and when she opened her eyes they were black. She opened her mouth and a sound Elizabeth would never forget came out. It was low and rasping and horrible. It grew louder and louder until it filled the room. Mary Graham screamed.

Elizabeth gripped Simon’s hand more tightly. Mr. Stryker lurched from his seat and grabbed Madame Petrovka by the shoulders and yelled into her face, “Be gone!”

Simon jumped out of his chair and stood behind Elizabeth’s chair, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders. The sound was horrible.

It reached a crescendo with a thunderous clap and the sound stopped. Madame Petrovka blinked and seemed to come back to herself. Mary Graham cried and Victor tried to comfort her. The rest of the room sat in stunned silence as a wind blew through the windowless room and snuffed out the candles leaving them in pitch black.

Chapter Sixteen

S
imon threw open the doors to the hall and called for the servants. He cursed under his breath knowing he should have stopped this charade sooner. A maid and footman hurried inside. The man lit the gas lamps and the room glowed back to life.

Elizabeth went to Mary Graham who was near hysteria. She tried to comfort her, but the woman was barely listening. The other couples dithered about unsure and frightened.

Victor tried his best to calm his wife, but it was no use. “Ellen,” he barked to the maid. “Take Mrs. Graham to her room.”

The young girl nodded and took a step toward her mistress. She stopped and looked down at the carpet. There were small wet footprints leading to Mrs. Graham’s chair. “Sir?”

“Take her,” Victor said, easing his wife out of her chair and into the maid’s arms.

Madame Petrovka had left the table and stood on the edge of the room, appearing faint and breathing heavily. Mr. Stryker held her arm and whispered in her ear. She nodded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Graham. I must recover.”

She started to leave, but Graham blocked her path. “What was that? What are you playing at?”

Madame Petrovka looked at him sadly. Mr. Stryker strode forward and tried to move Graham out of the way. “Later. She needs rest.”

Graham was clearly torn, but stepped aside and let them leave. The rest of the party fled the room leaving Simon and Elizabeth alone with Graham and leaving them all wondering what in the hell had just happened.

Graham’s breath was still ragged and his eyes were a little wild. Simon didn’t blame him in the least. He gave Graham a moment and the man composed himself as best he could. “I apologize. This was not the entertainment I had in mind.”

Simon knelt near one of the small footprints on the rug and felt the wetness. “Water.” He smelled it and then brought a finger to his mouth and tasted it. “Salt water.”

Graham looked like he’d been hit in the stomach. “Sea water.” His face paled again and he struggled not to break down. “Please excuse me,” he said and fled the room.

Elizabeth looked at Simon anxiously. “What the hell was that, Simon?”

“I don’t know.” He picked up an oil lamp from the credenza and lit the wick. “But I plan to find out.”

He knelt again and studied the small footprints, even lifting up the edge of the rug. He walked the perimeter of the room carefully scanning for wires, tubes, any sort of tampering. They searched under the table and above the chandelier. Nothing looked to be out of place, no hidden mechanisms or any of the usual tricks of the trade.

Confident he’d searched as best he could, he turned to Elizabeth. That’s when he noticed how pale she was and that she was actually shivering. He took off his dinner jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

Elizabeth gave the violets that covered the tabletop one last glance and then nodded. They gathered up Teddy who was still sleeping soundly in the other room. After helping him out to his carriage, they got into their own and started back to Mrs. Eldridge’s.

“Are you all right?” Simon asked.

“I’m fine. I just…you didn’t feel it?”

Simon rubbed one of her hands between his. It was ice cold. “Feel what?”

Elizabeth shivered. “I don’t know. It felt like jumping into ice water.”

“Can you remember anything else?”

“I don’t know. It was right before that…what was that, Simon?”

He didn’t answer. As much as he’d love to believe they’d witnessed an actual paranormal event, he knew that everything they’d seen that night could be explained. Somehow. Given enough time, he’d figure out Madame Petrovka’s tricks. Regardless, whatever had happened the effects on the Grahams and Elizabeth were real enough.

“I don’t know what it was,” Elizabeth said sounding much more like her old self, “But I’m not a fan.”

When they arrived back at Mrs. Eldridge’s, Gerald greeted them at the door. “Good eve— What’s wrong?” he asked Elizabeth. “What happened?” he demanded of Simon.

“Tea, lots of it,” Simon said.

“English,” Gerald muttered, but he left to start the tea.

Simon and Elizabeth went into the front parlor. She was still shivering and Simon pulled a chair in front of the hearth. He stoked the fire and lit a few lamps. “Better?”

“That was genuinely disturbing, Simon.”

He pulled a chair close to hers. “Yes, it was,” he said with a deep frown. “And a little too coincidental, don’t you think? The man you’re sent here to save is the victim of a charlatan days before his murder?”

Though Elizabeth nodded, he could see the doubt in her eyes. “That was more than smoke and mirrors though, Simon. And, besides, what could she gain from that?”

“Control? Blackmail? I don’t know. But I do know that what happened was not what it appeared to be.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Color me unconvinced. You searched the room. How do you explain the flowers? And that thing at the end.”

“There’s an explanation.”

“What if it was real?”

Simon didn’t have an answer to that. “I believe that we should consider the possible before the impossible.”

“You didn’t—” Elizabeth started, but Gerald entered with a tray of tea. He set it down on the table and stood looking down at Simon with a disapproving frown.

“Yes?” Simon said tartly. He didn’t know why, but Gerald did not like him.

“You should know better than take a lady like her to places like that.”

“What on earth are you on about?” Simon asked.

“Chinatown at this time of night and those places—”

“Chinatown? We went to the Graham’s,” Elizabeth said.

“What makes you think we went to Chinatown?” Simon asked.

“Your clothes,” Gerald said. “I know that smell. Opium. That’s not for the likes of you, girl.”

“Opium?” Simon said.

“We didn’t—”

“The incense.” Simon shook his head silently berating himself for not having realized it sooner. “It was laced with opium. Would a real medium need to drug her audience?”

“No,” Elizabeth admitted. “You’re sure that’s what it is, Gerald.”

“It’s a not smell you forget.”

“Thank you,” Simon said, dismissing him.

Gerald completely ignored him and looked to Elizabeth who said, “I’m okay. He’s not so bad when you get to know him.”

Gerald didn’t look like he agreed, but he bowed and left them alone. The man was irritating, although Simon knew he should be grateful that he had Elizabeth’s best interest at heart.