Free The Spiritglass Charade by Colleen Gleason Page A

who—supposedly—speak divinely; that is, through a deity, in order to answer questions or give guidance. Any type of device may
assist
the oracle in determining the answer to the query at hand—including a glass sphere such as this one, tea leaves, or small imprinted stones called runes. But the sphere itself
isn’t
the oracle.” I looked around the chamber to make certain everyone understood the distinction. “In this case, I believe a more accurate term for this object would be ‘spiritglass.’ ”
    â€œVery well then,” said Mrs. Yingling in a vague manner. “Shall we begin?”
    â€œCan’t you keep your mouth closed for once?” Miss Stoker hissed, jabbing me in the side as we took our seats. “If you’re rude, we might be off this case before we even get started.”
    Lifting my nose, I muttered, “I see no reason to allow a person to spout inaccuracies or misinformation, particularly to young, naive women. Recall, if you will, the danger that befell the foolish women involved in the Society of Sekhmet because they believed the ridiculous ravings of the individual known as the Ankh.”
    Miss Stoker returned my stare but said nothing—for of course I was correct. And if there was anything I could do to keep another naive young woman from being conned by a nefarious villain, I would do it.

Miss Stoker
In Which Our Heroines Encounter Raps and Jolts
    I barely managed to keep from stomping on Mina’s toes as she paraded past me to take her seat. Not that her knowledge and deductive abilities didn’t come in handy. But couldn’t she learn when to keep her thoughts to herself? I smoothed my skirt and petticoats as I took a chair next to her. At least if I was sitting beside Mina, I could elbow her into silence.
    I’d never been to a s é ance before, but I knew what to expect. The six of us gathered around a small circular table in a stuffy room with closed and curtained windows. The only light was a group of three small candles in wide, squat holders at the center of the table. They surrounded the oracle—no,
spiritglass
. The surface was bare and there were no furnishings other than walls of bookshelves. Long shadows danced across the table and ceiling, and the corners of the room weredark and gloomy. Could there be any more perfect place for a s é ance?
    â€œ
Hush
.” Mrs. Yingling’s command halted Mina as she leaned toward me, obviously about to make some pithy observation. Maybe she’d noticed a loose hair on the table and was about to give an entire history of its owner.
    â€œEveryone must remain silent or the spirits will not visit.” Mrs. Yingling looked pointedly at Mina, then me, and then around the table. I was surprised Aunt Geraldine had taken a seat as well. Maybe she thought it was best to see exactly what her niece was up to.
    â€œJoin hands, please, ladies. You must remove your gloves.” She pointed at Miss Rolstone. “It is imperative that we are flesh to flesh, for the energy will be that much more vibrant, and the connection with the spirits will be that much stronger. I can feel them gathering in preparation for our call.” She looked up as if to see the spirits hovering on the ceiling.
    Mina shifted next to me. I wasn’t surprised to feel the skepticism rolling off her. Naturally, as a vampire hunter I was more inclined to believe in Para-Natural occurrences than most people. When you come face to face with a red-eyed demonic creature with fangs, your skepticism vanishes pretty quickly.
    And sometimes, so did your wits.
    The single time I’d encountered an UnDead, I
couldn’t remember what happened
. The violent scene had become blankedfrom my memory. I don’t know what I did after I took up the stake.
    â€œNow,” Mrs. Yingling said. “We join hands not only to make a bond of energy, but also to create a welcoming circle for our spirit friends