Repo Madness Read Online Free PDF Page A

wished he had learned while he was alive. That you’re his role model in life now, his guide, and he is glad you are teaching him.”
    Well, that was a lot of crap. If Alan had something to say, it would almost certainly be to complain about me being engaged to his daughter.
    Madame Revard saw something in my expression. She set down the stone. “He has left,” she murmured.
    â€œThe guy who was here last year was better at this,” I said.
    Her face hardened. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThe medium. He came up with some stuff that no one could know but my mother. Not just feelings, but actual facts from the past. It’s why I keep trying—I’ve never been able to reach Alan, but sometimes I’m impressed. Persuaded there’s maybe something to this.”
    â€œThey can sense when you’re skeptical. When you’re not receptive. And they stay away.”
    â€œI’m very receptive.”
    â€œNo, you’re hostile.” Her eyes flashed at me angrily.
    I stood up. “I’m not hostile; I’m just built to look like it.”
    â€œThank you for the session. Go in peace,” she said dismissively.
    I stepped outside the tent, and the cold air rushed up to freeze my face. “Well, Alan, struck out again,” I said softly.
    I sometimes talk to Alan as if he were still there. That doesn’t mean I need antipsychotic medication.
    The locals had been drinking long enough to set up a broom ball game on the ice rink. I stood and watched it for a minute: about a dozen people whacking each other with brooms that had the bristles wrapped in duct tape. They were supposed to be playing a sort of hockey, without skates and using a soccer ball as a puck, but mostly they were knocking each other over, falling to the ice and laughing uproariously.
    As far as I know, only our species does this sort of thing.
    I sensed someone standing near me, and turned. A young woman was looking up at me with an oddly intense expression. From the lights strung overhead, I could see she had pretty blue eyes and blond hair worn short, her bangs peeping out from her hat, which matched her scarf. Her bulky coat hid whatever curves she might have, but she was on the thin side. “Hi,” she said. Her freckled cheeks were red from the cold.
    â€œHi,” I responded with more interest than was appropriate for a man who was affianced. In my defense, she was really focused on me, her stare intent, and it made me feel attractive. I had been at the festival for a couple hours and had just about decided to leave, but if pretty women were going to chat me up, maybe I’d stick around awhile.
    â€œI saw you come out of the medium’s,” she said. She glanced over at Madame Revard’s tent.
    â€œYeah. She said Abraham Lincoln is proud of me.”
    Admittedly, not the most witty remark, but she was still staring at me and reacted not at all to this.
    â€œI saw you last year, too. There were two mediums here, and you talked to both of them.”
    â€œYou saw me last year?” I replied, puzzled. Why would anyone notice or even care?
    â€œI’m kind of a medium too,” she continued, as if answering my question.
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYou’re Ruddy McCann. That football guy.”
    â€œWell, okay, but that’s sort of known.”
    She shook her head. “No, I’m not channeling anyone for that. I mean, I recognized you.”
    â€œOkay.” I slipped off my mitten and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you…” I put a questioning look on my face and left a blank at the end of my sentence for her to fill in.
    â€œAmy Jo,” she said with some reluctance. She kept her glove on as she shook my hand.
    â€œSo, every year you come to experience the thrill of Smeltania?”
    She wasn’t interested in light banter. “I have a message for you. From, you know, beyond?”
    This was the strangest conversation