Murder on Waverly Place Read Online Free PDF Page B

concern.
    Madame released Sarah from the power of her gaze and turned it on Sharpe. “Not at all. I am not a consideration, in any case. I am merely a tool the spirits use to communicate. If the spirits choose to speak, they will speak. If they do not choose to speak, they will not.” She looked around again, as if making sure everyone was present. “Shall we move into the other room?”
    Without waiting for a response, she turned and was gone, as if she were a spirit herself and could vanish at will. Mr. Cunningham stepped aside so the ladies could pass, although Sarah sensed he wished propriety didn’t constrain him from following at Madame’s heels.
    “This way,” the Professor said from where he had been waiting outside the parlor door, and led them down the hall. The room they entered was in the rear of the house. It was smaller than the parlor and had no windows. A gas jet burned in a sconce on the wall as the one source of illumination. The only furniture in the room was a round table in the center and a large wardrobe against the far wall. Seven chairs had been placed around the table, and a black tablecloth hung nearly to the floor.
    Madame Serafina directed everyone where to sit. Mrs. Decker was to sit to her right, then Mr. Sharpe, then Sarah, then Mrs. Gittings, then Mr. Cunningham, and lastly Mrs. Burke on her left. When everyone was settled, Madame took a moment to look at each person in turn, her dark eyes seeming to penetrate their very thoughts. At least Sarah thought they could when Madame was looking at her. If so, she knew that Sarah was on the verge of bolting from the room. What had ever possessed her to do something so ridiculous?
    “Because we have some new guests with us today, I will explain what will happen,” she began, her voice sounding even more hypnotic in the stillness of the dimly lit room. “Before we begin, we will hold the hands of the person on either side of us. This creates a bond between us and makes it easier for the spirits to communicate with us. Then I will turn out the light and close the door. The room will be very dark. When I have taken my seat again, I will call on my spirit guide, Yellow Feather. He was an Indian warrior who died in battle many years ago, and he is the one who actually speaks to the spirits, not I. In fact, he speaks through me. If he chooses to appear today, he will actually take over my body. You will know because you will hear his voice and not mine when I speak. If any of the spirits have a message for someone here, they will convey it to Yellow Feather. Do you have any questions?”
    Sarah had a million questions, but she didn’t want to speak any of them aloud. Her mother had no such hesitation. “Should we tell you if there’s a particular person we want to contact?”
    Madame smiled kindly. “It’s usually better if I do not know. In fact, I won’t even be conscious during the séance. But you may ask Yellow Feather questions, if you wish, and answer his. Is there anything else you wish to ask?”
    Mrs. Decker couldn’t think of anything, so Madame showed them how they should hold each other’s hands. Each person in the circle would use his left hand to grasp the right wrist of the person next to him. Mrs. Gittings readily took hold of Sarah’s right wrist, but Mr. Sharpe gave Sarah an apologetic glance when he offered her his own wrist. She took his right wrist gingerly in her left hand, finding it oddly uncomfortable to be practically holding hands with a man she’d only just met, but no one else seemed concerned with the arrangement. They had done this before, after all.
    When everyone was properly clasped together, Madame disengaged her own hands and rose from her chair. “I’m going to put out the light now and close the door and then return to my seat. The room will be completely dark. Then I will call for Yellow Feather.”
    Moving almost silently, she crossed to the door and put out the light. Then she pushed the door