Free Wait Until Midnight by Amanda Quick

am, in effect, only a channel—the medium—through which those who have gone before us can reach back into our mundane sphere."
    An attentive stillness settled on the audience. Irene finally had the full attention of everyone present. She positioned the planchette above a sheet of paper and placed her fingertips upon the small wooden platform.
    "I must first ready myself so that the spirits can make use of my hands for the purpose of writing out their messages," Irene continued. "When I have gone into the required trance, I will take questions from the audience. If the spirits choose to respond, they will make use of the planchette."
    There was a murmur of anticipation. In spite of her own skepticism, Caroline found herself sitting forward slightly. "Be warned, however, that the spirits do not always answer the questions that are asked in these public sessions,"
    Irene said. "They often insist that certain inquiries be made in a more private setting."
    Adam leaned over to speak quietly into Caroline's ear. "It sounds as if she is drumming up business for the more expensive séances that she holds in her own home in the evenings."
    "Please be quiet. I am trying to listen to Mrs. Toller."
    On stage, Irene was giving every sign that she was entering a trance. Eyes closed, she swayed slightly in her chair.
    "Hark, you ethereal beings who exist beyond the veil that shrouds this mortal world," Irene intoned. "We would learn from you. We seek your guidance and knowledge."
    Expectation vibrated across the audience. Caroline could tell that most of those present were only too happy to suspend logic here in this room. They wanted to believe that Irene Toller could communicate with the spirit world.
    "A willing audience is always easy to convince," Adam observed softly.
    Irene began to make a low, keening sound that sent a shiver through Caroline. The medium jerked several times, shoulders twisting.
    The audience was riveted.
    Irene's moaning halted suddenly. She stiffened, head snapping back, and then she straightened, somehow appearing taller and more imposing in the chair.
    She opened her eyes and stared at the audience with an unnerving gaze.
    "The spirits are here," she announced in a hoarse, fear-some voice that was different from the one she had used earlier. "They drift all around us in this room, invisible to the ordinary senses. They await your questions. Speak."
    Caroline heard several gasps and low-voiced exclamations.
    A man rose a trifle uncertainly from the first row of seats. "Beg your pardon, Mrs. Toller. But I wanted to ask the spirits what it's like over there on the Other Side"
    There was a moment of utter stillness. And then, seemingly of its own accord, the planchette began to move beneath Irene's fingers.
    Caroline sensed that everyone, with the glaring exception of Adam Hardesty, was holding his or her breath. The audience watched, fascinated, as the pencil fitted into the planchette glided across the paper.
    After a moment the automatic writing device ceased moving. Irene looked somewhat haggard from the effort. She rolled the planchette aside, picked up the sheet of pa-per and displayed it to the audience. The glare of the lamp revealed a scrawled message.
    "This is a realm filled with light and harmony," Irene read aloud. "It cannot be fully envisioned by those who are still trapped in the mortal plane"
    Murmurs of appreciation and wonder rippled across the room.
    "I have no talent for the writing of fiction," Adam whispered to Caroline, "but I vow that even I could craft such a script."
    "If you cannot refrain from making comments on the demonstration, perhaps you would be so good as to sit in another section of the room, sir," Caroline snapped softly. "I am trying to observe Mrs. Toller. I do not appreciate the distraction."
    "Surely you are not taking any of this seriously." She pretended she had not heard that.
    Another person rose to ask a question, a middle-aged woman this time. She wore deep mourning.