Frizzy haired and overweight, sixteen year old Elizabeth Summers hears ghosts. She also reads people's auras often seeing when something bad is headed their way. Unfortunately, she can't choose which ghosts visit her psychic hotline or when her para...
The next day, I pull out the calling card Blair gave me at the dance. The thick creamy stock's inscribed with her aunt's contact information. For the first time since I received it, I look at the psychic's professional calling card. Her aunt's name and title are embossed on the front in heavy, golden letters.
Madam Regina James, Medium (Professional Consultant for the Deceased)
Flipping it over, I see the mediums's phone number and address. She's not far from us, residing in Quincy, Massachusetts. When I call her number, a woman with a sultry, European voice answers. "Hello."
"Madam James?"
"Yes, this is Regina James." The woman who answers has a low, smoky, voice.
"My name's Elizabeth Summers." I hesitate before continuing, trying to get a sense of the exotic sounding woman on the other end of the line. "Your niece, Blair Covington, gave me your business card."
"Ah, yes." Madam James' tone immediately , becomes more inquisitive. "Blair knows I'm retired. She only hands out my card to those she feels are in dire need of help." She pauses for a beat before continuing, "Or cases she feels I would find interesting. How would you like me to help you, Elizabeth?"
I keep the details light, conveying that I'd like to see her in person, and that I'm interested in her discretion. "There's another moment of silence before Madam James answers.
"I see. Yes, discretion is always preferable."
"I'd like to show you a diary my mother had," I continue. "There's a message in it we can't decipher. There's also someone we'd like to contact. Someone who was murdered. We believe this spirit might be able to help us understand what the message in the diary means."
"Mmm.. that's very interesting. I believe a seance can be arranged. Can you come here tomorrow evening? Around eight pm?"
"Yes, certainly. We'll be there. Thank you." To the side, Dylan reminds me that he and Jerry, also want to attend the meeting
Ah, Miss James."
"Yes?"
"Would it be all right if two of my friends accompanied me?"
"I don't see why not. I'll see you and your party Friday, Elizabeth."
"Thank you, Madam James."
"Please, call me Madam Regina."
Once I close the phone and inform Dylan of the arranged seance he's ecstatic. "I'll let Jerry know. He can meet us there."
****
The next evening Dylan and I drive to Madam Regina's home and place of business. On the way there, I'm reading off the screen of my phone, filling him in on what I'm learning Googling Regina Jame's history.
"It says Blair's aunt was instrumental in solving homicides in the Brighton area during the 1970's." I frown as I continue reading. "As she entered the twilight of her career, she experienced a tragedy in her family forcing her into early retirement."
Dylan can tell I'm disappointed that there's no additional information about the reclusive woman. He takes his eyes off the road, looking over at me, "It's nice she offered to help us on such short notice."
"I wonder what was the tragedy that caused her to retire? I didn't think anyone could easily walk away from being a psychic."
Pulling up to our destination, I'm surprised to see Jerry's Jeep is already parked out in front of the old Victorian house. Dylan shrugs, "I guess he like seances."
When Madame James opens the door, I see she's slightly younger than my grandmother's age. Her dark eyes are reserved and mysterious, like those of a gypsy. She's formally dressed, as if she's been attending a Renaissance Fair, wearing a green dress with a choker pendant, and matching earrings. She has a strong aura surrounding her, like a vibrant force field.
She politely greets Dylan and I, then holds my gaze for a moment, nodding to herself as if satisfied with what she sees. "Blair said you had the Sight." She smiles briefly before leading us into an old fashioned room.
There's a round table with a couple of wooden chairs. I see Jerry, already seated, having a cup of tea.
"Hi, Lizzy, Dylan." He smiles at the psychic. "Madam Regina was reading my tea leaves." He holds up a scalloped tea cup, painted with small pink roses.
Meanwhile, the Medium, all business opens a heavy, dark cabinet. She pulls out some white taper candles. Carefully lighting them, she methodically places them on the table, while offering us something to drink. Dylan and I decline, eager to get on with the seance. Madam Regina nods as if silently reading our minds.
"So you're all here. Let us begin." Dimming the lights, she draws the shades before seating herself at the old fashioned, wooden table. With only the flickering candlelight, the room feels enclosed and dark. Madame Regina must like a cold house, because I'm already shivering. Ignoring a desire to look over my shoulder, I slide my chair closer to Dylan's, holding his hand. There's a strong electrical current circling us like a snake moving in a whirlpool. I look over at Jerry and Dylan, but they're oblivious to the energy I'm feeling.
Motioning for us to be quiet, the medium asks us to hold hands, before picking up a beautiful piece of cut crystal. After a few minutes, she begins murmuring to herself, eyes closed.
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"I'm opening up a channel to my spirit guides," she says, holding the skull shaped crystal firmly between her hands. The air feels charged. "Lizzy did you bring the diary?" My hands trembling, I pull out my mother's grimoire. Gingerly, I place it on the table.
