Poison Read Online Free PDF

there isn’t much use for them these days.” She turned toward me. “We’re talking about scenters, as in ‘scent.’ ” She wrinkled her nose. “Although a scenter employs much more than a sense of smell.”
    “A scenter is a sort of detective,” Gram added excitedly. “Someone skilled in the use of many senses.”
    “Many?” I asked. “Like five?”
    Agnes tsk ed. “There are more than five senses, Katy. You should know that.”
    “Of course she does!” Gram leaned forward. “How does it feel when you push, dear?”
    “Pushing” was a slang term for telekinesis, or moving objects with your mind. It was not that big a deal as far as special abilities go, but it was something I could do. “Er . . . I don’t know,” I said. Actually, it felt sort of like sending a whip out from my brain and feeling it wrap like a tentacle around things, but I didn’t want to gross out my great-grandmother. “Weird, I guess.”
    “Well, a scenter would know that feeling, and a number of others as well. She—or he, since many of them are male—would be able to perceive traces left in that poor girl’s dorm room from whatever magic occurred there.”
    “By sensing dirt and things.” I was still trying to get my head around that concept.
    “By focusing,” Aunt Agnes said. “Focusing is the core of all magic. The scenter concentrates on whatever has been deposited in the room—hair, skin, breath—and then sorts out what is relevant from what isn’t.”
    “Breath?”
    “Nothing is lost, Katy. The breath from your body will remain, in one form or another, until the end of time.”
    “Gracious, I hope Penelope doesn’t have too much difficulty finding one,” Gram interrupted. “There hasn’t been a scenter in Whitfield for years.”
    “Let’s hope we find one in a hurry,” Agnes said. “It’s been nearly two days. Traces are evanescent, you know. They remain, but they fade quickly, and soon become impossible to perceive, even for a scenter.”
    •  •  •
    As it turned out, the lone scenter in the tristate area was on vacation at Club Med in Aruba, so Summer’s room would be yielding no new information. Everyone was disappointed, especially me. The scenter might have exonerated me. Better yet, he might have figured out what had really happened to the Muffies, so that they could wake up. I hadn’t liked Summer, but I wouldn’t have wished what had happened to her on anyone. If there were just something I could do!
    I began to think about scenters, and how they were the detectives of the spiritual plane. Actually, I could see myself doing that, solving crimes by using my highly honed sensitivities—being in demand wherever people were in need of psychic help, a Sherlock Holmes of the magical realm. I’d be welcomed into thehighest circles of society because of my extraordinary skill. I’d even make inroads among enlightened cowen, bringing our disparate worlds closer together. Yes, I could see myself answering that call.
    Katy Ainsworth, finder of lost souls.
    “There are traces of everything everywhere, of everything that’s ever happened,” I explained to Peter while we were shucking oysters. Fall was the big season for oysters at Hattie’s. “Like Napoleon’s breath,” I said, elaborating on Agnes’s information with something I’d thought of on my own. “It’s still here, somewhere.”
    “His farts, too?” Peter inquired.
    “I’m serious!” I shouted, banging my knife on the bucket.
    “Okay, I was listening. Traces. They’re everywhere.”
    “But they’re evanescent.”
    He looked over at me. “Like those baking soda volcanoes?”
    I gave him a hard look. “No, not effervescent, ” I said, as if I didn’t know he was pulling my chain. “Evanescent. The traces fade. They’re made of things like dust and odor, so they fade.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t think they fade very fast,” he said. “Not in my room, anyway.”
    “Believe me, I know. I’ve been